Costa Blanca
by Carly Cisco
Summary: Santana Lopez only wanted to escaped her authoritarian family. Brittany Pierce only wanted to please her family. They were both on board the cruise ship, Costa Blanca. And then, Fate had thrown them both into the raging seas of love and hurt and wrong decisions.
1. Chapter 1

The sun seeped into the large windows and reflected itself on the carpeted hallway. Alejandro Lopez was already making his way on to work when he met his first-born son, Agustin. His son was already dressed for school, and his backpack was already slung on his shoulder.

"Good morning, Papi," he greeted his father and kissed his hand respectfully.

"Buenos dias," Alejandro gave out a quick nod to his son before going out. "Is your sister awake already?"

"No, Papi," Agustin smiled sadly. He already knew what was coming because of this.

"What time did she come home last night?" Alejandro asked.

"I don't know, maybe you should ask Prescott about that, Papi," Agustin said suggestively as he made his way to the kitchen. Alejandro also started to walk to find the butler.

"Good morning, sir," Prescott greeted cordially. He was wearing his usual tuxedo uniform and was leaning on the mast of the head of the stairs.

"Prescott, I just want to know. What time did Santana come home last night?" Alejandro looked expectantly at the butler.

"She came in," Prescott paused as if he was trying to remember. "At around four-fifteen in the morning, sir," Prescott said with an authoritative tone.

"Doesn't she have class?" Alejandro said with disdain.

"She has a class sir, and she's only having ten minutes to get to it, unfortunately."

Prescott's confirmation of his suspicion was enough for Alejandro already. He quickly made his way towards his daughter's room. He angrily tapped on the girl's door.

"Santana, open up!" Alejandro said loudly as he called his daughter. However, Santana did not open up. And there was no response so he just got it. "Fine! I'll see you at dinner. We need to talk."

He left their house, which actually seemed like an empty, haunted mansion and went to work that day. When he came around for dinner, his son, Agustin and his wife Carmen were at the table.

"Come, let's eat," Carmen beckoned him to sit at the head of the table.

"Where's Santana?" he asked his wife.

"I don't know. She might have left the house earlier," Carmen said softly. The brunette woman stared at her husband for a moment and turned to her son. "Have you seen Santana, Agustin?"

"No, Mami. I really haven't seen her," Agustin said as he straightened up on his seat.

"Well, since there are no signs of Santana showing up, let's eat," Alejandro said, albeit with a sad hint in his voice.

"Shouldn't we wait for her, Alejandro?" Carmen put out a hand and groped it.

"As much as I wanted to, I couldn't wait for food," Alejandro said.

"Fine. Prescott," Carmen called the butler. "Tell Lydia to bring the food in."

They dug through dinner and in the middle of it, a loud slam of the front door was heard. It was followed by soft, rubber-sounding running steps in the hallway.

"Santana!" Alejandro called his daughter. "We need to talk."

A Latina-featured brunette went into the kitchen, carrying a rucksack behind her back and a longboard in one hand. She had a cap twisted around on her head and her denim jacket seemed a little ruffled. She stood there, very apart from her family, her father, in a business suit, her mother in a business suit as well, and her brother Agustin was wearing a plain, white shirt. They all looked so stoic, nonchalant and…too formal.

"What the fuck?" she snapped.

"Santana!" her mother gasped, shocked of what her daughter had turned into. "How could you? You are an insolent delinquent!"

"Shut up!" Santana raised her voice.

"Is that how you talk to your mother?" Alejandro snapped.

"Well, how do you expect me to answer her? After all, you did not care about me," she quipped angrily at her father.

"Santana, sit down," her father ordered. "We have to talk. You did not go to school today, did you? I called. What do you think the hell this is? A game?"

"Why would I? I'm too tired of all the games, Papi. This sucks! This whole family sucks!"

"Santana," Agustin said, cutting her off.

"And what do you have to say, Agustin? That they're right? That they only want what's best for us? Shut the hell up, Agustin. This is not the way of a good parent. If they had been feeding you candy just to get your loyalty, fine…but you know what? You'll regret the fact that you did stuck up with this crazy authoritarian family!" she yelled as she quickly stomped out of the room.

Santana went up to her room and sulked for the rest of the night.

_Great, her whole evening is shot._

She stood up and paced back and forth of the room. She dialled a certain person and waited for her call to be packed up.

"Come on…" she mumbled under her breath.

On the second ring, a man answered her. "Look, Satan, what do you want? You know this time is Quinn and my mack-on," the man growled.

"Puck, I need your help," Santana said flatly.

"Why?" the man said again.

"I need a place to go. I'm leaving this place," Santana declared.

"Okay, I'll just…look for places," Puck answered hesitantly on the other line.

Puck had been her best friend for as long as she knew. She ran around the city streets, robbing for sport with him. Puck was the same age as her and as carefree as her, although Puck had been given his freedom and independence long ago, unlike her.

Santana was born in an upright-elite family, the Lopez family. She was Hispanic of ancestry and her wild side was considered unacceptable. She often criticized her family for shutting themselves out from the world and humanity itself. She hated all of them, in fact, she hated rich people who seemed to only care about themselves and their own narrow vision of the world.

She hated rich guys and girls. Yeah, except for Puck.

She wanted to be independent, she wanted to be free from the straining chains and rules of her father, Alejandro. And most of all, she wanted to go to Paris and be a photographer or a painter and work for herself there. But her family had been the hindrance to all that she had wanted, in the first place.

"Thanks," Santana disconnected her phone and threw it on the bed. Then she took out a rucksack underneath her king-size bed and tossed a few clothes in it. Most of them were denims and tops. Next, she dug out all the bills she had saved and sorted out all her ATMs from her credit cards. She placed the credit cards on an inside pocket of the rucksack and placed her ATMs on the other side.

She also took out her personal stuff, her cameras, sketch pads, laptops, a few of her jewels, a flashlight, a tool kit, complete with a Swiss knife and a hunter's knife, which Puck had given her for protection when gang run-ons were hot downtown.

Then she wrung her blanket into a cloth rope and she tied it around her bedpost. The next thing she took out was her comforter and tied it to her blanket. Next thing to go was a spare blanket.

The height will already do for her.

Silently, with her backpack containing her cameras and laptops fitted snugly behind her, she slung her rucksack around her shoulders, she was ready. The night air was cold, yet Santana stepped out the window.

Clad in her combat shoes and torn denim jeans, topped with a white shirt that fitted her small frame and a leather jacket over a hoodie to keep her warm, she gripped hard on the cloth coming out from her bedroom window as she made her way down quietly.

She landed on the ground with a soft thud and a rustle of leaves as the golden tops that her mother had adored so much were trampled on by her boots. Slowly, she made her way towards the back of the mansion.

And her frail shadow disappeared into a clump of trees.

She quickly made her way towards an old tree that stood in the farthest corner and started climbing it. Pretty soon, she was just above the tall concrete wall that surrounded the house that seemed so much like a prison to her.

There was no commotion inside the house. No yelling or frantic searching for a certain Santana Lopez. No calling of cops.

_All is good._ She thought.

Santana rested her strong left foot on the concrete wall while her nimble hands held on to the branches. It was a hard task, but for freedom, Santana would gladly do it.

She made her way to the corner of the wall, then without letting go of the branch, she quickly lowered herself. She was a few feet from the ground when she heard a snap. She had to make a jump for it.

She jumped.

A few minutes after, a young Latina was already hailing a cab on the next block.

"Where do you want to go, ma'am?" the driver asked.

"Take me to Louisville," she ordered.

"That would cost you a hundred and fifty bucks, ma'am…" the driver said.

"Forget it, just take me downtown," Santana climbed in the car.

**A/N: As you can see, there is no cover for this fic, so I am asking you guys a real BIG favor. Please, please, please, please...please make me a cover or a manip?**

**Please? 0;)**


	2. Chapter 2

There was a series of impatient knocks on Pucks door. Quinn, a blonde girl about the same age as Santana and Puck's long-time girlfriend made her way to the door.

"You better explain this, Lopez…" Quinn mumbled. She knew that if one person would turn up in front of Puck's place at that hour of night, it has to be Santana.

Quinn opened the door.

"Hi Quinn," Santana greeted the blonde girl. Unlike Puck, Quinn wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was used to hard work, and she had dreams. In the moment, Quinn was working as a call centre agent as Puck worked at home as an app and web developer. They're not as rich and as lucky as Santana, but she was jealous of them.

"Hi, Puck's in the kitchen," Quinn smiled. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Santana said as she proceeded into the living room and into the kitchen.

"Hi, Tana!" Puck extended his hands to Santana, who just smiled smugly.

"Okay, what do you want?" Puck lowered his arms.

"I need your big bike," Santana said.

"Where are you going?" Puck asked. He turned around and went on about doing the dishes.

"Wakita," Santana replied flatly.

"Why?" Puck said. "I thought you were leaving. Why are you doing suicide?"

"It's part of the plan, you know. Lead them in circles," Santana leaned back on the sink. "I'm going to withdraw some cash in Wakita and in Dallas, then one in Louisville and in Knoxville then I will come back here. What you say, eh, Quinn?" Santana said simply and nodded at Quinn.

Quinn stared at her as if what Santana had just told Puck was a conspiracy. Well, it was a conspiracy, in one way.

There was silence as Puck seemed to weigh it all down.

"Fine. Keys are on top of the fridge," he said as he rinsed Quinn's mug.

"Thanks," Santana fished out the motorcycle's keys and disappeared into the door.

Quinn stood there, with a pained expression on her face. "What now? She's just going to leave her family?"

"Quinn, she needs it. You know, it's kind of hard for her."

"But, it's not right, Puck. She's just so young and immature," Quinn said softly.

"Well, yeah, right. Maybe she'll come around, when she feels she's loved," Puck gave out a shrug.

Santana drove towards Wakita that night. She stopped at the first 24/7 ATM withdrawing machine and she cashed out five thousand bucks. She drove again a few miles and withdrew ten grand. She repeated the process as she reached other places. She took out fifty grand in Dallas, twenty grand in Pasadena, another fifty in Louisville and several more.

The whole night for her was tiring, and she came back in Puck's apartment the following day. She's pretty sure she was asleep even before her head had hit the couch.

She woke up after a few hours and saw Puck look at her.

"Hey," she sighed as she sat up on the couch. "Where's Quinn?"

"She left breakfast for you," Puck said. "It's in the microwave. I have to go to Qualfon and I'll be back in a few hours."

Santana trudged into the kitchen. It wasn't much, but it was enough. She took out the can of corned tuna and popped it open. She ate out of the can and quickly downed it with an energy drink.

"So, where do you want to go, after all this?" Puck asked her as he put a clean shirt on.

"I don't know. London, LA, New York, Bora-Bora…wherever," Santana replied.

"You're hopeless, Satan," Puck smiled at her. He knew that Santana had been so adamant when it comes to her independence.

"Hey, cheer up, devil," Puck patted her shoulders, and then she left the apartment.

Santana looked inside her rucksack, her backpack and stared at her hundreds. She had to do something else. She picked it up, backpack and all.

She took her rollerblades and went to a nearby rural bank.

_She had to get out of her father's reaches if she wants her freedom._

She set up a new bank account and got a single ATM card for all her money. Before she could leave the bank, she checked all her previous cards.

They were all frozen.

_Just as she had expected. Alejandro Lopez would never tolerate her._

She made her way towards Puck's apartment, clearly missing out a black car in front of it. She walked the flight of stairs and then she saw Quinn talking to a man…it was Prescott, and her brother, Agustin stood beside him.

_They were looking for her._

She ran back down the stairs and she went through a service exit. The exit brought her to the back alley of the building. She jumped on a truck and lay there flatly. Santana fumbled for her iPhone and dialled Puck.

Her call was picked up in the first ring.

"Puck, where are you?"

"In the basement where I parked my bike, duh," Puck said.

"Listen, my brother was here, and our butler…I need to move out. Meet me at the skate park, please."

"Okay, fine. You owe me one, Lopez."

Santana disconnected the call and she put her hood on. She put on her rollerblades to the ground, then she rolled towards the park. The traffic was heavy, and getting to the park had consumed much of her energy. When she saw Puck sitting on a bench, she went up to him and looked at him, straight in the eye.

"So," Puck smiled. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Didn't you tell me what?" Santana grumbled.

"Satan's losing it," Puck gave her an elbow.

"Shut it, Puck," the young Latina grumbled. She stared at Puck for a while and sighed. "I just need to get out of here, Puck."

"I got a brother. He's going on board a cruise ship, y'know, those big boats… for richies…" Puck raised an eyebrow. He had perfected his craft in doing it that Santana had to laugh.

"So, what you say, eh?"

"Let me see. Okay," Santana grinned. If there is one person that would stick up for her, it has to be Puck.

"Here's his address. Y'know, he's kind of grumpy, but I think you'd get along pretty well," Puck smiled. "Just let me make a call," Puck waved his iPhone and dialled.

"Hey, man…yeah…please?"

There was a moment as Puck stayed quietly.

"Yeah, yeah…sure, okay…thanks," Puck smiled as he clasped his phone shut. He smiled at Santana widely.

"What?" Santana impatiently asked. After all, she hated guessing games.

"He asked if you like pepperoni pizza," Puck grinned. "So, hop on my bike, I'll take you to his place."

Santana climbed behind Puck and they were treading on the west side of the downtown area.

They reached the apartment some fifteen minutes later and guy walked opened up to them.

"Hi, bro," Puck rubbed his elbows with the man. "Aye, Finn," he said as he nodded to another guy.

"Hi, Puck. Is this her?"

"Yeah," Puck smiled.

"Great. I'm Blaine," the shorter guy smiled.

"Nice name, Santana, I'm Finn. Come in, we're waiting for you," Finn smiled as he took Santana's rucksack and backpacks.

"Thanks," Santana mumbled as Blaine ushered her to the counter and handed her a slice of pepperoni pizza.

Again, Santana said thanks.

"So, we need you to look after this place," Finn started to say. "Because, we have to leave for New York the day after tomorrow. So basically, we trust you."

"New York? Why?" Santana mumbled through her pizza.

"We're working as crew members in a cruise ship," Blaine said proudly.

"To Paris," Finn added.

"Paris," Santana almost choked on her food. "Paris, France?"

"I don't think there's any other Parises in the world," Blaine said quietly, clearly missing Santana's euphoric look in her eyes.

"Can I come with you guys, please?" Santana said and mustered her best please-have-pity-on-me-and-say-yes face.

But, it did not take much for the two boys to answer. "Yes!" Blaine and Finn chorused, causing a wide grin to form on Santana's lips.

"But…you need to have a pass, clearances, things to look after, you know," Blaine said sensibly.

"Look, I just need to get on that ship, please…" Santana almost begged.

"I know, Finny!" Blaine exclaimed. "Deck washer!" he smiled as he waved his hands, throwing pizza crumbs around.

"What's a deck washer?" Santana asked, her mouth full of pizza.

"A deck washer washes…the deck, duh…" Finn replied. "Actually, it's the person that basically looks after the deck."

Santana's eyes grew wide. "What? Sweep and clean and look after the deck? What the fuck!"

"Told you she'd not like it," Blaine smiled as he whispered in Finn's ear.

"What the fuck? The fuck is that you get a free pass in the ship if you stick with me and you get a free ride to Paris inclusive of food and a bed," Finn leaned close to Santana. "So, deal…or no deal?"

"No deal," Santana smiled.

"Fine, let's take it the hard way then," Finn eased on the couch. "First one to down a six-pack of Heineken and walk on a straight line. Longest straight line wins. If we get a deadlock, we'll go to our time spent drinking."

"For?" Santana cockily raised her brows. Over the years of sneaking out and partying, she had grown tolerant to alcohol.

"First mate," Finn grinned.

It was Blaine's time to freak out. "First mate what? That's me, Finn! I'm the first mate! I'm your first mate! In case you forgot!"

"You the cap'n?" Santana's voice drawled.

"Yeah, so, deal?" Finn extended his right hand.

_This would be easy._ She thought. "Deal," she took Finn's hand on her own right hand.

"Blaine, get the six-packs," he ordered the grumbling Blaine. Without any choices, although with a heavy heart, Blaine made his way to the fridge and came back with two six-packs.

The following hour was filled with Finn and Santana trying to down the beer. When both were finished and almost ass-drunked, Blaine took out a string and nailed it in andjacent to the kitchen door jamb.

It was Santana's turn first, being the first one to finish the beer. She walked carefully and picked up her feet. The line was just a good five feet, and she wouldn't have a hard time walking on it. She started walking.

But a little beyond midway of the line, when Santana was just almost two steps, she landed on a loose foot and fell down.

Blaine let go of a breath that he had been holding.

At least it's safe. If only that shithead Finn would go one step beyond the steps of Santana, his job is safe. But his chances are small. Finn doesn't drink much, but he always had a flask of brandy when he has a shift at the ship, especially at night.

An miraculously, Finn just walked languidly and straight across the line and reached the door. Blaine finally breathed hard. He gets to keep his job.

"So," Finn drawled. "You're hired," he smiled goofily to Santana before falling down the floor and landing with a thud.

Santana wanted to curse and spit at Finn's face, but could she? At least she's going to Paris, in the most low-profile way. That's worth something.

"Welcome aboard, Santana," Blaine smiled, with Finn on his shoulders. "Goodnight," he said finally as she watched Santana curl up on the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana looked in awe at the ship beyond her sight. The black prints written in bold, block letters on the stern read Costa Blanca.

Beautiful could not describe the ship. It was magnificent, fantastic, amazing…everything.

Santana got out of Finn's battered Chevy truck and took out her rucksack. She had disabled every GPS and tracker on her iPhone and laptops. Blaine carried her backpack and they went into the ship's service door. They still have a few hours left, before the first wave of first-class passengers would come through the main entrance.

"So, deck washer," Blaine smiled.

"Shut up, Warbler," Santana quipped then chuckled. The incident between them a few nights before was long forgotten and all that bonded the three of them was pure camaraderie.

"We've got to get changed," Finn said. He handed Santana three pairs of khaki pants and five grey shirts. "I hope they fit you."

Santana took one and went into a dresser. The pants were good on her. They were kind of loose and it gave her comfort, plus it's making her look like a hippy, but the shirt's sleeve were kind of longer than her usual taste, so she folded the sleeves thrice, starting from the bottom till it only came three inches from her shoulders, instead of six or seven.

"Nice dress, Lopez," Finn smiled, although Blaine was snickering behind Finn.

"Shut it, both of you," Santana snapped. "I'll go make a check at the deck, bye."

"Wow, really getting it on, huh," Blaine smiled.

"Shut it!" Santana said as she walked through the door.

The deck was large. It was an understatement when Finn said that Costa Blanca was a ship of dreams, because Costa Blanca was a royally mind-blowing cruise ship. Santana looked out through the horizon.

"Hi," a big burly-looking man smiled and walked towards her. "I'm Dave."

"I'm Santana," she smiled at Dave. She further noticed that they both wore the same set of uniforms. "Deck washer?"

"Uh-huh, too difficult to find jobs back in the city. More opportunities here," Dave smiled sadly. "Had to feed the mother, three other siblings…kind of hard, but this is better than doing nothing on the streets. What brought you here?"

"Life," Santana answered softly. Somehow, Dave had made her think of what she had. And what she hadn't. She had been spared to feel the pains of everyday living, yet she wasn't thankful for it. Somehow, Dave had opened a new chest in her that made her realize how lucky she is in spite of her family.

"But that's not a way to sulk around. Come on, let's get to the railings," Dave smiled at Santana and they made their way to the rails.

"Actually, I'm new here. So what are we really supposed to do?" Santana said as she stood on the first level of horizontal rails.

"We get to wipe off the junk these rich people leave, we tell them not to lean on the rail. We get tips for doing things for them such as looking after the dogs," Dave smiled. "It's a boring job."

Santana nodded in agreement. The New York sun had been halfway to the horizon and Santana could hear the excited horns and good-byes from the wharf. There were limousines, cars, everything Santana had owned when she was with her family.

Dave let out a strangled cough as he rubbed his chest. "Ugh, the cold night air. I used to sleep on the bridge, or on those benches," he said as he pointed his index finger to the steel benches that lined on the deck. "We get to wipe those."

"You know, you get to sleep tonight at my place. I'm sleeping with two guys, my brothers, but I'll spare my bed for you, okay?" Santana said worriedly. "I'm sleeping outside."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," Santana smiled.

"Thanks a lot. Hey, come on, the richest people will be on the upper deck pretty soon," Dave smiled and dragged the Latina to the other side of the deck, where a stairway led to an upper deck.

They watched the busy cargo loaders pack out and the cargo buggies carry the loads and luggage toward a service door. A conveyor belt was bringing the bags to the insides of the ships.

There were girls with poodles, Chihuahuas, Akitas, Great Danes, and a few other assortments of dogs and pets that they'll bring in the ship. Some butlers were grunting at the weight of the luggage they were carrying, and still others were suffering the burden of carrying the pets.

A hundred languages were spoken all at the same time, and a thousand races were all mixed in together at the small space of the wharf. Suddenly, a white limousine pulled up some hundred yards away from the ship. It pulled right in front of the first-class passenger's terminal. A black limousine was also following it.

A blonde man went out of the limousine, almost balding on his head, then a blonde-haired woman. Another blonde man went out of the limousine and the white vehicle moved away.

From the black limousine, a butler came and opened the car and a fat cat walked out of the car.

Santana had to chuckle to herself. Finally, Dave joined her after seeing the scenery just right opposite to them. It was far, but they can see what happened clearly.

"Rich people, they never understood life," Dave mumbled.

A pang of pain pierced Santana's heart. However, she can't blame Dave for it.

A blonde man came out of the limousine and smiled at the butler as he tried to wipe away the dirt on his suite. Then his right hand reached out to the inside of the vehicle. A pale-skinned hand went out first and then a perfect set of legs, with high-heeled sandals.

_Probably Jimmy Choo._ Santana thought to herself. But she can't deny to herself the mesmerizing feeling she had felt. It was as if her heart suddenly had wings.

A blonde head emerged from the car, a smiling, blue-eyed blonde. The sun had shined down on her head, making a halo of gold around her. Suddenly, Santana forgot everything at the moment and stood there looking at the blonde.

Her heart suddenly fluttered out towards the wind, like those royal turrets that wave across the horizon along the gale wind. Suddenly Santana was hearing music in her ears. It was the music composed by the little butterflies in her stomach.

And the blonde was clearly and obviously staring at her, too.

After realizing that she could have watched the blonde for minutes, Santana felt the heat from her chest rise up to her neck and to her cheeks.

"Hey, quit looking at her," Dave successfully snapped her back to reality, and he was looking at her in the most funny way.

"I'm…I'm not looking at her," Santana's throat seemed to run dry. She had never felt that feeling before, and it scared her so much. It was foreign and she would never know how it will end for her.

"You were looking at her, and she's looking at you…like you were mentally having sex together," Dave said.

"What?"

"Nothing, Santana, I'm just kidding. Come on. It's getting crowded in here," Dave dragged her back to the lower part of the deck.

As they were moving away from the upper deck, Santana could see the blonde girl wrap her arms around the blonde guy and the blonde guy in turn, wrapped his arms around the girl's arm as they posed for the paparazzi and reporters.

_Well, seems like they're together._

Santana looked back to the young blonde couple. Well, she doesn't even know her. She's attracted to girls, alright, but why would she care for her? Besides, she doesn't have anything to do with her.

Santana walked to the railings and felt the cool, sea breeze as she tried to shake the nagging pain in her heart. And she struggled to push the blonde girl's face out of her mind.

_She shouldn't be struggling, she thought. She's no one important to her._


	4. Chapter 4

Brittany Susan Pierce walked into the velvet carpeted hallway towards her family's suite. One of the ship's butlers was standing on her doorway, and quickly opened the door for her.

"Good afternoon, ma'am…"

There was no answer from Brittany, she only smiled half-heartedly in response to the butler's warm greeting. Long ago, she had been trained by her mother to ignore servants, as long as it doesn't concern them in any way.

"Hi, babe!" the same blonde haired guy greeted her.

"Hi, Sam. Have you seen my paintings? Or one of the servants…have you seen them take out those paintings?" Brittany asked the blonde man.

"No, ask your mom about that," Sam answered. "Are you comfortable with your suite?"

"Yeah, I am," Brittany smiled widely at her fiancé. Sam was a handsome man, and to her, they actually look good together.

"Charlotte," she called out to her personal maid. "Have you seen my paintings?"

"Ma'am?" a brunette maid came into the room, carrying a bundle of fresh towels.

"Have you seen my paintings?" Brittany said, emphasizing her question by saying it slowly. The brunette in front of her winced once, then twice.

"What?" Brittany impatiently said.

"Yes, ma'am…actually, they are being put up by Mrs. Pierce," Charlotte replied softly. And before Brittany could throw another saucy comment about her maid's uniform and about whatnots, she quickly excused herself.

Brittany left the room, leaving Sam sitting on the couch and went to the next room of their suite.

"Put it over there…" a blonde-haired woman, in her fifties was supervising several maids in putting up the paintings.

"Hi, mom," Brittany greeted her mother.

"Hi, honey. How does it look? Peter, it's leaning to the left. Move a little to the right," Elizabeth Anne Pierce, or shortly known as Anne, told the family's butler.

"Sorry ma'am," the lanky man named Peter apologized profusely as he moved the painting to the right.

"I know. Now, run along to your room. Get a change from those clothes and get ready for dinner. We will be sharing the table with our friends," Anne ordered her daughter.

"Okay," Brittany smiled. She loved seeing people, she loved them. And their dinners with their friends were really something. And besides, her friend, Rachel Berry would be there to perform for them.

She walked to her bedroom and to her surprise, the room was perfectly furnished that she silently thanked the gods for it. In a matter of minutes, she was out of her sky-high heels and flopped on her bed. After some time, she went into her walk-in dresser and discovered that her clothes weren't there. There was, however an array of new and the trendiest clothes she could ever find.

A note written on a pink stationery paper hung on one of the coats.

_I hope you like it. Kurt told me to buy them because you would. Not that I don't trust him, though. I just love you. –Sam_

She smiled at the thought of her boyfriend, Sam Evans. In a matter of days, ten days to be exact, they would be wed in Paris. It was all his idea. And she loved him for his sweetness. Somehow, Sam had that talent, he just knew what to do and what to say. To Brittany, she was the luckiest girl. She had a perfect family, a perfect boyfriend, a perfect wardrobe.

Well, all in all, she can't ask for anything more.

Brittany changed into a small tank top and cotton shorts, and tying her long, blonde hair to a bun. She laid down contentedly on the bed for a while and then she opened her laptop and looked at her Facebook account. In her profile picture, it was Sam and her, on their first year as lovers together. The photograph was taken a year ago, and Brittany never changed it, although they had a lot of more beautiful photos taken.

They looked awfully happy. And now, they are actually happier. Especially when her wedding day is a few days away.

It was just a simple picture, with Sam holding the camera. In their background, there were ducks. And ducks were Brittany's favourite. The memories flooded back to her, making a gentle smile creep on her face.

"_Sam, look at the ducks!" Brittany yelled to her boyfriend. They were having lunch at Central Park, which turned into duck-feeding and chasing each other under the sun. Both of them were hours late for work, and not to mention their dirty business suits._

_Brittany had her own office in her own building just a few blocks from her boyfriend's office, so they both got it on. When both of them have time, they usually eat lunch together, but today was something special._

_It's special because it's their first year anniversary._

"_They're cute!" Sam leaned on the rails as he coked his head towards the duck. "Hey, how about we take a picture with them?"_

"_Sam, we don't have a camera. You know that I don't bring mine at work," Brittany's lips pouted._

"_Well, let's get some. Wait here," Sam ran to the other side of the park, and he came back with a camera._

"_Well," Brittany said, imitating her boyfriend's tone. "Where did you get that?"_

"_Koreans," Sam chuckled. "Come here babe, let's get a picture together."_

"_Don't tell me you bought that," Brittany narrowed her eyes at Sam. "Sam Evans, you are hopeless!"_

"_Yeah, well, hopelessly in love with you…"_

Her consciousness snapped back to reality when she heard a knock on her door. She quickly got out of bed and opened it. It was Kurt Hummel, her friend and well…sort of make-up artist. He really loves fashion and he oversees Brittany's everyday clothing. He is also the event coordinator and wedding planner that Sam got for their wedding.

"Hi, your mom wants you to look good at dinner," Kurt grinned.

"Of course," Brittany smiled. "Get in, I need your opinions. By the way, what time is it?"

"It's almost six," Kurt informed her.

"Well, let's get it on. I want to be at the deck and watch the sunset," Brittany smiled.

"Alright," Kurt smiled. "I'm going to put on your fresh make-up and just a sundress, because I really love looking at you as if you are a carefree girl. I'm sure everyone will love you out there!" Kurt smiled. Somehow, Kurt had that energy and optimism that never seemed to run out.

"Okay," Brittany went into an adjacent room and sat in front of the vanity table. Kurt started applying her make-up.

Within the next minutes, Brittany had her face made-up. And after it, she thanked Kurt. Her dress wasn't that flowing gown, nor was it that bareback, skinny dress. It was a simple sundress that seemed to give her a floral ambience.

She walked to the den of the suite and found her parents having coffee with Sam's parents. Brittany cordially greeted them both and turned to her father.

"Dad, can I go to the deck. I need the fresh air," she asked, making sure she had her puppy-eyes mustered. Her father turned to her mother and then she saw her mother nod.

"Alright, but you better not be late for dinner, alright?" Robert Paul Pierce, or known as Robert smiled.

"Thanks, Dad!" she beamed and then smiled at the Evans. "Excuse me," she said as and then she turned towards the door.

To Brittany's pleasure, the deck wasn't that crowded at all. There were a few second class passengers and a few people who are walking their pets, which are mostly dogs around.

However, someone caught her eyes, a raven-haired girl was sitting on the far side of the deck on a bench. She was isolated from the crowd, which is in the middle. She's alone, save for a burly man who was leaning behind her and looking at the pad of paper the girl was holding.

Well, it wouldn't have caught her attention if she hadn't caught the brunette staring at her, although the brunette had now averted her gaze to the ocean. But Brittany was pretty sure that girl was staring at her a few moments ago.


	5. Chapter 5

Santana looked out beyond the blue waters, knowing that she had been caught staring at someone. She wanted to hide the embarrassment from her face.

"You're a dead cat, Santana," Dave smiled and tapped the Santana's shoulder. "I have to check for those ropes, San."

Dave walked away from Santana, and she was left alone on that corner of the deck. There are a fewer people already on the deck. Santana wandered her eyes around, and saw that same blonde again. Her heart skipped a beat, which surprisingly caught her off-guard.

Thankful that the blonde had her eyes glued to another place, Santana turned to a certain page and started swishing her charcoal-lidded pencil on her sketch pad. She turned to look at the blonde girl again. She did it, again and again, making sure that she was looking at the blonde when the blonde wasn't looking at her and quickly averting her eyes into something else as the blonde looks her way.

She bent over and tried to render her drawing. When she finally looked up again to see the blonde, she wasn't there.

_Maybe she went back to her cabin._ Santana thought to herself. She wandered her eyes for the last time in hopes that she would find her but Santana had failed to see the blonde.

_Well, maybe she really did go back to her cabin._

She quickly clasped her sketch pad close and stood up from the bench and sighed. Well, so much for that blonde. She'll never have a chance knowing her. Although she wished she could use her father's associates to look for her, but she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind.

"Why are you looking at me? No, why are you staring at me?" a voice called behind her.

Suddenly, Santana's heartbeat seemed as if she had run a mile without stopping. Her hands gripped hard on the sketch pad as her fingers trembled as she faced the blonde.

"I…I'm sorry. I wasn't looking at you," Santana stammered. The blonde in front of her was more beautiful when she's in a close proximity. She's not just beautiful.

_She's breath-taking._

"You give me creeps," the blonde declared, her tone was albeit a little accusing. She even narrowed her eyes on the Latina.

"Look, I wasn't staring at you," Santana denied. Her guilt was eating her the whole time, but judging from the girl's words in front of her, she's dangerous.

"I saw you look at me, once. Do you know who I am?" the blonde girl said.

"Shut up, that was just coincidence," Santana said and walked away from the blonde. She'd rather not cut this bitch because, right now, she needed not to mess up. She doesn't have a multi-billion dollar property to back her up.

"You'll hear the end of this!" the blonde yelled at Santana, then went to the upper deck, grumbling.

Santana went in her cabin, walking in on Blaine, who is furiously brushing his teeth. His curly hair was tousled and dishevelled, and his shirt was stained with pitch-black oil.

"Hi," Santana slumped on the double-decker bed she and Blaine had shared. There was no answer as Blaine rinsed his mouth.

"Sup?" he straightened up and looked at Santana. "What's with that scowl, eh?"

"Someone really pisses me off. I mean she's beautiful, alright, but she's a total bitch. I don't know why. Blaine, is staring at people that bad that you had to wage a war when someone looks at you?" Santana wailed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't think looking at someone is bad. But you were staring at her! Who knows she thought you were ogling at her?"

"I'm not ogling at her. She's sexy, I can see that but her dress, it's not that revealing," Santana commented.

"Then why do you think made her pissed?"

"I was sketching her, and then she kind of thought I was leering at her. What the fuck? I don't date girls," Santana declared. Suddenly there was a tiny, just a tiny voice in her head that reminded her that it was a lie.

"Lopez, you're a desperate case. Let me see her," Blaine opened his palms, waiting for Santana to hand the sketch pad and turned to her iPhone and started putting on her earphones.

"It's not yet fini-"

"Holy fuck, it's Brittany," Blaine looked at her with shock. Santana almost missed Blaine's words, for she was immersed with her phone so much.

"What?" Santana snapped her head back up to Blaine.

"It's Brittany the Bitch," Blaine said softly. "She's Mr. Pierce's only daughter. You know the real estate developer companies? They own it."

"O-okay. So?" Santana looked at Blaine quizzically.

"You are in deep shit, Lopez," Blaine replied.

"Why would that take me into deep shit?"

"Because, she would hunt you down," Blaine said softly.

"How deep is the shit?"

"Knee deep," Finn appeared on the door. "I can't help it but listen."

"Well, I've been in deeper ones. So no need to worry," Santana raised her two palms together and shrugged her shoulder. She exited the cabin and went out to the deck, listening to the splash of water and smelling the sea air.

_She's happy, at least…_

Brittany Pierce sat with her family around the table and she chewed on the lamb chops quietly. Her eyes were fixed on Sam, on her family and on the other people around the table. Still, she was fumed up by that brunette she had met on the deck before but at least, she was a little cooled down by the dinner.

"So, are you saying that you'd get off Maine?" Robert asked Sam's father, Peter.

"Yeah, that's where our ticket says where we're going," Peter replied jokingly. ""Well, we had to fetch Sam's grandparents. From there, we're taking the plane to Paris."

"I hope that doesn't disappoint our dear Brittany," Emily, Sam's mother said.

"Of course, Emily. I'm alright with it," Brittany smiled shyly. Then she turned to her boyfriend, who was sitting beside her. "Will Kurt go with you?"

"No," Sam replied softly. "But Rachel does, she's helping Kurt plan the wedding, right?"

Brittany stopped for a while. Rachel did not say anything about helping plan her wedding, but maybe that midget was just trying to surprise her.

"Ah, surprise!" Sam said softly. "I guess I spilled the beans."

"Well, if she wants to," Brittany grinned.

Rachel Berry stepped on the stage. She looked gorgeous on her red gown and she started to sing "Take My Breath Away".

"She's got a nice voice, yeah," Sam applauded as Rachel bowed to the spectators. Then she joined the Pierces and the Evans on their table.

"How long have we been apart, Rach?" Brittany asked as the brunette sat beside Sam.

"Three months. I was in Europe," Rachel smiled.

"And you'll be back in Europe?" Robert asked Rachel.

"No, I'm singing here, for a few months of course," Rachel smiled cordially at everyone. The dinner went on, with mostly Rachel catering the conversation.

The captain of the ship walked towards their table.

"Good evening, sir. May I get you something?" Finn Hudson smiled.

"No, we're fine. Thank you. Great ship eh," Peter smiled.

"Yeah, I run her personally," Finn replied proudly, although he was looking directly at Rachel.

"Cool," Sam and Brittany said together. Both of them then looked at each other and laughed.

Finn was engaged in a conversation between the Pierces and the Evans. He went on talking about Costa Blanca and more of the ships features, which Brittany found extremely boring. She sat there for a few more minutes and struggled so hard to stop her eyelids from closing.

"Sam, I'm going to the deck, do you want to come?" Brittany held his hand.

"Nahh, I'll stay here, for the brandy," he said blandly. Like his father, he was interestedly listening to Finn Hudson.

"Alright, I'm going out. Excuse me," Brittany excused herself and made her way across the restaurant and out to the hallways. Her feet started to tread the path she had taken hours ago, and towards the deck. And to her pleasure, no one was really there.

She walked to the far end of the deck, and looked out beyond the dark, although she could still make out the New York lights in the horizon. The torch light on the Statue of Liberty was a steady, distant yellow star.

Suddenly, the image of the Latina came back to her mind. She reconsidered her words again. She had spoken so badly at the girl earlier without any rational reason.

_Oh God, why was she thinking like this?_

True to tell, Brittany have had frustrations about her sexuality before. Prior to meeting Sam, she played for both teams, and basically, Sam was the only person that had changed her.

_Or had she really changed?_

Deep inside, she knew she was happy with Sam. But her wedding…

_It wasn't her idea. _

It was her parent's idea. But why did she say yes? She shouldn't have done that. But it was a good decision. She will learn to be a wife. She loved Sam, of course. And she knew he will be good to her.

_She did not want to disappoint them. And now there was this Latina bothering her._

She sighed softly to the wind. Why does it have to be complicated?

_It's not complicated, she'll just do anything what everyone could be happy about._

And then her nose started to twitch annoyingly. She sneezed as she bent her head low.

Out of nowhere, someone stood beside her, handing her a leather jacket. "Wear it, before you catch a cold. It's a cold night."

Brittany Pierce looked up and stared at a set of dark chocolate-brown eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

"Thanks," Brittany softly mumbled as she draped the leather jacket around her shoulders. The brown-eyed woman stood beside her, watching her shiver.

"Why are you out so late in this cold night?" the woman asked Brittany. Her tone was nonchalant, and the woman was looking out to the dark, making Brittany feel like she did not really want to be with Brittany at all.

"I just needed some time to think, you know. You worked here, didn't you?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah, and still is…"

Silence filled up the air as they both settled in their own thoughts.

"Look, I'm sorry I acted like a bitch earlier, I really did not like people ogling at me. It gives me creeps, you know," Brittany blurted out to the night air. Then she added in a silent tone, "I'm Brittany Pierce."

"It's alright. It was my fault too, I'm sorry. Umm, my name is Sant-" doubt clouded her mind. She may or may not know her family, but whatever.

"I'm Santana."

"No, I should have given you a chance to explain. And that's what I want right now, an explanation," Brittany said.

"Well, you got angry first, maybe you should explain why you talked like that," Santana shrugged.

"What?" Brittany threw out an exasperated sigh. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," Santana said confidently. She won't back down, now that she had been in the upper hand of the conversation.

"Look, you made me angry. Maybe you should explain first?" Brittany cocked her head arrogantly.

"Okay, run along now, you impossible girl," as much as Santana wanted to throw an insult at Brittany, she just couldn't. And that makes her frustrated beyond measure.

"Well, fine. I am giving you a chance to explain but you just blew it off," Brittany stated.

"I don't care. I'm not guilty, because the way I stared at you was not about leering at you, contrary to what you think!"

"Really? So what were you doing with your eyes, running it up and down my whole body? What an X-ray test?" Brittany snapped hotly.

"I was ske-…I was, never mind. Just, leave…it's cold," Santana said. Somehow, she felt shy at Brittany. And talking to the blonde made her feel…scared.

"Ugh, fine! But I apologized to you," Brittany left the deck angrily and went straight to their suite. She took long strides and went for her room. She quickly took the leather jacket from her shoulders and threw it to the bed.

Suddenly, it hit her. The jacket wasn't hers. It was that brunette's…what was her name…Santana. It was Santana's jacket.

"Damn!" Brittany had to curse herself as she leaned her head on the door.

_Why…why on all the people in the world, she had Santana's jacket?_

There was a knock on her door and she quickly hung the jacket in her closet. It's probably Sam, just wanting to talk to her. And when she opened the door, her guess was right.

"Hi," Sam smiled softly at Brittany. "How did your time go at the deck? Good, bad, what?"

"Okay," Brittany smiled timidly. "I'm okay."

"Really? Doesn't look like it," Sam said as he held Brittany's hands.

"I'm fine. I'm okay, just…maybe I'm just tired," Brittany said softly. "I think, I'm about to hit the sack."

"Mhm…" Sam nodded and gave her a smile. "Fine, let's tuck you in," and with one swoop of his strong arms, Brittany was in Sam's arm.

"You really know how to make me laugh, Sam," Brittany sighed as Sam laid her on the bed. "Why are you so kind to me, Sam?"

"Because I love you, and I want to make you smile all the time…" Sam kissed her forehead, then her eyes, then the tip of her nose, and then her lips.

"Whoa, hang in there, cowboy," Brittany giggled playfully.

"Just a kiss, I'll be leaving you tomorrow morning…you know that," Sam said albeit softly.

"You had enough kisses," Brittany swatted her boyfriend's arm softly.

"Alright, goodnight…babe. I love you," Sam said softly as he turned off the light, only leaving the nightlight beside Brittany's bed.

"I love you too, Sam," Brittany smiled softly as she drifted to sleep.

It had been several minutes, maybe a few hours that Brittany was asleep when Santana's face came to her dreams again. For whatever reason she doesn't know, she kept on thinking about her. Well, maybe her subconscious mind.

She sat up on the bed after realizing that she can't go back to sleep. That lady seemed to have a knack in getting into her nerves. She went out to the hallway and stood by the side of the rail. In an instant, the cool sea breeze started to tingle her skin, and goose bumps appeared on her pale arm.

"I told you to stay out of the cold, you didn't. I can't give you my jacket because you took it with you when you left," Santana appeared on the aisle.

"You again?" Brittany said exasperatedly. "I can't believe this. Why is it that for all the people in this ship, I have to put up with you tonight?"

"Listen, I don't want this to happen as much as you do," Santana started to say.

"Are you stalking me?" Brittany accused.

"What? For God's sakes, no!" Santana exclaimed. "I don't!"

"Then why is it that you have to be in here?"

"Because it's my job!" Santana snapped. This morning walk is turning into a nightmare.

"Christ," Brittan dropped her shoulders exasperatedly and walked back to her cabin-slash-suite. "Stay away from me, or I will personally make sure you can't come within a fifty feet radius from me," she threatened the Latina.

"Come within a fifty feet radius from me…" Santana made a face as she imitated the blonde's tone.

All that answered her was the slamming of the door.

_Jesus! That blonde is so impossible!_

Santana made her way back to her hammock and slowly laid down on the sleeping garment. "Stay away from me…" Santana drawled on as she mimicked the blonde's voice. How or why the blonde had irritated her so much left Santana clueless. She looked at her wrist watch, the luminescent arms of the clock ticking away, telling her that's it's still forty minutes past three in the morning.

She leaned her head on the built-in headrest of the hammock. True, it's not as soft as her pillow back at home…

_Home? She doesn't have a home._ Santana chuckled as the stars above her glittered, urging her to fall back to her sleep.

She woke up, sometime later, and she had missed something. She knew something was off. Yeah, there was that eerie stillness that hung in the thick air.

A hand tapped her side. It was Dave.

"Wake up, Santana," Dave said softly. "We're docking."

"What? We're in Paris?" Santana said, clearly dazed off from her sleep.

"No, we're in Maine."

"What the hell are we doing her in Maine? Stopover?" Santana stood up and gathered the rolled the sleeping bag and grabbed her sketch pad. "What time is it, Dave?"

"Almost five," Dave mumbled. "Let's get inside. Let's have coffee." They started their way toward cabin, and they went in, with Dave opening the door for her.

"Thanks," Santana smiled at Dave. The air of camaraderie engulfed her. Blaine handed her a cup of coffee and Finn handed her a croissant.

"Hey, uhh, we need to get outta here. You know, captain, first mate thing," Blaine said as he walked to the door. Finn followed afterwards.

"Bye guys," Finn grinned goofily at them.

"Finn told me you're big time out there in the mainland. You did not tell me," Dave remarked silently as he leaned on the bedpost.

"I…I thought maybe it would be better, you know. Besides, I'm not really that much. I left home," Santana drawled as she hung her head down.

"It's okay. You want to tell me why you left, right?" Dave gave out a smile.

"I just…I just wanted freedom. You know, live and work for myself, do things for myself, decide for me…not stick up for a family that's as narrow-minded as Fox News, you know," Santana smiled a sad smile.

"I understand, Santana," Dave looked at her seriously and smiled. There was a sudden shift on the floor.

"We're sailing. Straight to Paris," Dave smiled. "Come on, let's get to the deck, let's beat it before the sunrise comes!"

Dave had already ran to the cabin door.

"Wait up!" Santana yelled as she grabbed for her sketch pad. She ran towards the door and out into the deck, but she can't find Dave anywhere. Dave might have had an errand to do, or something, and now she was left in the deck, alone, with nothing to do.

She sat on the deck, watching the sky turn into rosy pink, with the sea underneath it looking greyish-blue, and they were travelling into the vast Atlantic, with no land ahead of them.

Somehow, the sun has ways to captivate her, all the time. It made her feel as if she is part of something…something bigger.

Light footsteps treaded into the air and reached her ears, making her turn around and what she saw was none pleasurable to her.

There, just left of her, some ten or fifteen feet from where she was sitting, stood her nemesis, Brittany. Her hair was hanging down her shoulders, shining in rich gold as it reflected the small amount of gold dust that escaped from the sun's pocket.

_She's awfully beautiful_. Santana thought as she felt her heart seem to fly towards the sun.

"You again? What are you looking at, stalker? Do you want me to call security?" the blue-ice crystals ore through Santana's soul.

She looked up, and met those icy blue diamonds with her own dark obsidian ones.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sorry, I don't stalk bitches," Santana said softly, albeit it did not diminish the rage in her voice.

"Christ, why can't you just do me a favour and stay away from me?" Brittany quipped angrily.

"I don't want to scare you, or give you the idea that I am stalking you, so please, don't make me say something I would regret," Santana said as patiently as she could muster. This girl is really getting into her nerves.

"I want you to get out of here. Now," Brittany said.

"No, I've got as much rights to stay here as much as you do," Santana said proudly.

"Jesus Christ, what do I have to do just to make you go away," Brittany half-yelled through the morning air.

"Look, maybe we got on the wrong foot here, let me start fresh, okay…" Santana said softly, her voice flat and nonchalant, the kind of voice she uses when she's totally pissed off. Well, she was…she was actually, royally, seriously pissed.

"Explanation, please…" Brittany said with an annoying voice that Santana squirmed.

She might as well end this and stay out of the girl's way. Besides, she still needed this boat ride.

"I was sket-"

"What is this thing?" Brittany grabbed her sketch pad, which had actually had taken her attention.

"Uh, that's a sketch pad," Santana answered. "So, I really wasn't ogling at you, or leering or anything at you I was…trying to uhh…sketch you," suddenly Santana felt so embarrassed.

"What?" Brittany looked up from the sketch pad where she was so invested in.

"Uhh, I was…" Santana crossed her fingers. She's not really that expressive about her love for art, and she'd just like to keep it to herself rather than yell it out to the world.

"You were sketching me!" Brittany said in surprise as she held up the page where she saw herself.

"Yeah, uhh…that's why I was…looking at you," Santana bent here head. "It's actually, bad."

"No, in fact, you are actually good. I think you have good hands," Brittany smiled. It was the first time Santana had seen her smile at her, and the blonde was so beautiful when she smiles.

Santana gave out a smile back. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Brittany said softly. "I hope you don't label me as a bitch."

"It's okay. So, no more hard feelings okay?" Santana said as she held out a hand.

"No hard feelings," Brittany took the hand, However, when their skins made contact, Brittany was sure that there was a bolt of electricity between them. She just can't figure out why, but she feels something about the brunette.

_Something that scares her so much._

As they shook hands, Santana looked at her eyes. They morphed into dark blue to lavender as they were hit by the sunrise. Finally, they let go of each other's hands and settled in silence for long minutes.

"So, do you sell them?" Brittany gestured at her drawings.

"No, I just draw them," Santana smiled.

"Really, I love the art. But, well…I'm really not that, well…let's just say art doesn't like me very much," Brittany smiled. "You work here, do you?"

"Actually, yeah, this was the first time I came with the ship," Santana replied, her eyes glued into the clouds that were chased by the sun.

"Wow," Brittany said softly. "How does it feel, working around here?"

"I don't know," Santana said with all honesty. "As a deck washer, I get to sleep under the stars."

"Is that why I always see you here? Because you sleep outside?"

"You always see me because you always stay here. I work here at the deck," Santana said.

"The deck is my favourite place," Brittany looked at her, her face a little bit more warm and friendly.

"So I guess I'd be seeing you around then," Santana eased on her chair and looked up towards the upper deck, where she saw Dave standing, pulling out ropes. "Sorry, I have to go."

"Yeah, sure," Brittany nodded. Somehow, over the past minutes that she had spent with Santana, she felt…at ease, yet very excited. It's as if her heart had been in a race or it's like her whole self had been put into a new environment…and a promising one.

She watched Santana's sinewy back as the brunette ran up the stairs and helped her friend. Of course, she had to go back to the suite and have breakfast. Then, maybe she would go out, see some of her friends, take a walk. She just needs to do something to consume her time and keep her away from boredom now that Sam is gone.

"Morning, mom…" Brittany walked past her mother, who was drinking coffee.

"Good morning," Anne Pierce smiled.

"Good morning, Brittany. How was your morning walk?" her father asked her from the den.

"Awesome," Brittany smiled as she went into the kitchen and foraged it for her breakfast.

She sat on the ledge of their suite, nibbling at a strawberry and occasionally twiddling her spoon into the oatmeal in her bowl. Her eyes travelled on the long aisles down below, on the second class travellers.

They did not fail to find a certain figure in khaki pants and grey shirt, pushing out a trolley from an inside alley. And then the figure looked up and smiled at Brittany.

_It was Santana._

For a moment, Brittany felt her heart drop. She did not react, she just kind of floated there, suspended and waiting. It's as if her mind had just blacked out and the circuits in her brain stopped running.

And it was all because of the brunette smiling at her far down below the ledge she was sitting on.

She snapped back to reality and saw the brunette, but her smile had faded. She stood up and looked at her, and even in the great distance, she could see Santana's eyes, cheery warm and…loving.

Or is that what she wanted to see?

She smiled and waved at Santana, who waved back at her and her face lighting up. Then, Santana disappeared into a corner. Suddenly, Brittany felt a painful longing…something that she had never felt before. She felt as if she wanted to see Santana again, though it was just a few seconds ago since the brunette faded from her sight.

Realization dawned on her.

_She's awfully attracted to the young Hispanic._

"No, that can't be," she said out aloud as the first bite of guilt sunk deep into her heart.

"What?" her mother appeared on the doorway. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing, mom…" she replied worriedly shook her head and tried to shake off the nagging feeling that she was feeling. She felt attracted to Santana, but there was Sam. She should be only thinking of Sam, and no one else.

"Are you okay? You seem like a little troubled," her mother said in an evaluative tone.

"It's nothing, really. Have Charlotte pick up the dishes," she said as she moved back to her room. Anne followed her and sat with her on the bed.

"I don't think you're actually alright, Brittany. You never hide anything from me," Anne said. "You just never could."

Guilt washed over her. Why was she thinking of falling in love with Santana? It's not rational. She shouldn't be doing it. She was supposed to marry Sam Evans in nine days, there is no such thing that could happen to her.

But it was actually happening to her. The more she thought of it, the more she felt certain that she is falling in love with Santana.

"Brittany?" her mother looked at her expectedly.

Brittany did not answer and just sat by the bed. She couldn't just tell her parents she's backing out on her wedding. Besides, she doesn't even know if Santana was also attracted to her. She's maybe just overthinking it.

Anne sensed her daughter's hesitation. The elder woman scooted behind Brittany and smiled as she stroked the silky blonde hair.

The two women stayed like in the position for long minutes, with Anne gently stroking the blonde's hair. Comfortable silence hovered above them, making Brittany feel safe and secured.

She needs to tell her frustrations to someone. Someone that she herself could trust. And as if Anne Pierce had been reading her like a book, the old woman said out softly.

"You can tell me anything, dear. You can trust me,"

Brittany took it as her cue. She shifted her weight on the mattress and looked up to her mother. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Anne Pierce took a deep breath and continued on stroking the golden threads. There was a moment of silence as Anne took her time to answer.

"You have to go beyond romance. Because romance, it's easy…true love is not," Anne smiled softly.

Brittany turned away from her mother's face as she reconsidered the answer. True love…she wouldn't know. Maybe it's Sam…probably.

_Or it could be Santana._

_It couldn't be Santana._

_She's in love with Santana._

_She's with Sam. She's going to get married._

_She feels so happy with Sam._

_She wants to know Santana. She wants to be part of her life._

Brittany did not choose anything or anyone. Not for the moment. She just curled into a ball and struggled to bring herself back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hi, what's up?" Brittany stood on the deck, just beside Santana. She was inexpertly mopping the deck and the blonde just popped out of nowhere.

"Hi, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be having your afternoon spa or teatime or…stuff? You know, wasting time, painting your nails, drowning yourself in a Jacuzzi tub, tennis, dog saloons," Santana smiled at her.

"Nothing, just hanging around here. I have as much rights as you do to stay here," Brittany smiled.

"Wow, I didn't know you'd get that back," Santana chuckled.

"How did you know all those things?" Brittany eyed her quizzically.

"I knew about them, a lot," Santana averted her eyes towards the stern. She can't look at Brittany for keeping her real identity.

"Mhmm, what's your last name?" Brittany smiled. "I didn't catch it."

"Lopez, Santana Lopez."

"Okay," Brittany smiled softly. "Can I take a look at your drawings, again?"

"Yeah, but they're in the cabin, so, we might have to walk," Santana explained. "Besides, I still have work here, so can you just come back?" Santana swiped her mop to emphasize her job and to tell the blonde that she had work still.

"No, I'll just stay here and watch you," Brittany crossed her legs as she sat on the bench, pursing her lips perfectly that it made Santana stare down at her lips.

"What are you looking at?" Brittany asked sternly.

"Oh, please," Santana rolled her eyes and looked at her with disbelief. "I wasn't."

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Santana shrugged. "I'm not. Let's not go back there again, please?"

"Well, as you wish…I really don't like fighting…" Brittany mumbled as Santana went back to her work and then she added in a low tone, accidentally slipping her tongue, "…especially with you."

"What?" Santana looked up. She was furiously dumping the mop on the floor.

"No. nothing. Sorry," Brittany said.

_Don't be an idiot, Brittany._ She cursed herself under her breath.

Santana wiped the floor, swishing the mop quickly from one side to another. Thankfully, Dave came just beside her and took the mop from her arms. His arms were swatted by Santana's frail tan arm.

"Hey, let me have that," Dave said. "Run along now, seems like someone's waiting for you."

"Shut it, Dave." Santana looked at him with red cheeks. "Shut it up."

"Eh, you're losing it," Dave grinned widely, watching Brittany blush behind Santana. The blonde was in a helpless state. He knew he's grilling the two girls, and he's enjoying it, thanks to Santana Lopez.

"So, we're going?" Brittany smiled as she stood up and faced the Latina. She was anticipating the moment she's spending with Santana.

"Yeah, maybe we can uhh…go, now…" Santana gave out a crooked smile as she heard Dave snicker behind her. "Shut it, Dave."

They walked across the deck and found their way towards Santana's bunk. "Sorry it's a bit messy here, Dave's been sleeping here and two other guys," Santana frantically tumbled the sheets on a corner.

"No…no, it's fine, really. I…uhh, we'll just stay at the deck, if it's okay," Brittany smiled modestly. Her eyes gazed around the room and landed on Santana's set of laptops and cameras.

"Do you, own them?" Brittany innocently at the gadgets.

"Uhh…Finn," Santana scratched her head.

"So, we'll just sit on the deck, okay?" Brittany raised a pensive brow.

"Right, right…we'll just stay at the deck, and uhh…"Santana crossed her fingers. "You're right," she finally concluded after in an epic failure of engaging a correct, formal conversation with the blonde.

"So, do you draw…how often do you draw?" Brittany said as she walked beside Santana towards the aisle.

"I don't know…I just draw when I feel like it," Santana grunted as she shifted her sketch pads from her cramping left arm to her right arm.

"You seem to have a hard time carrying those pads," Brittany remarked.

"No, it's fine, actually. It's like…kind of, you know, heavy. And you're like…" Santana raked the blonde's body with her eyes.

"Too much for it?" Brittany cocked her head sideways and pointed to her sophisticated cocktail dress.

"Uhh…yeah," Santana shrugged her shoulders softly. "Yeah."

"Pfft," Brittany chuckled. And then her face sobered after some time. "You're not kidding, right?"

"Hey, how about we go to the rear deck. It would be awesome…" Brittany said suggestively.

"That's fine with me," Santana said as she walked to the aisle.

"Awesome."

Brittany and Santana seated themselves on the farther edge of the deck, isolating themselves away from the other people that milled about the deck. Brittany took out Santana's sketch pads and started flipping the pages.

"So tell me," Brittany looked at Santana, who is starting to draw on a fresh piece of paper.

"What?" Santana said without looking up.

"Nothing, go on drawing," Brittany watched Santana's nimble hands perfectly glide along the paper, drawing fine, black lines on the white pad. She was drawing the young couple seated just in opposite of them.

"Tell me," Brittany started again. "Do you draw…everyday scenes like this?"

"Yeah, most of them…" Santana answered, her hands still shaping the young woman's neck and face.

"You love drawing people, don't you?" Brittany said.

"Yeah," Santana said, still not breaking from her trance on drawing the sketch. Suddenly, she closed it and looked at Brittany quizzically. "What were we talking about?"

"You love drawing people," Brittany filled up the lost string of thought for Santana.

"Yeah, right. I do," Santana smiled awkwardly.

"What's this?" Brittany held up a loose page. A winged man was breaking free from his chains. "This looks kind of…" Brittany sought for words. "…it's dramatic."

"That's a nothing, put it back," Santana ordered.

"No, it's beautiful…" Brittany pouted her lips together. "This is awesome."

"I'll make you something better than that," Santana looked around her comically. Never had she seen someone act so childishly in front of her. And never had she seen someone who was never scared of pissing her off.

There was silence as Brittany looked at Santana's sketching interestedly, while Santana had her eyes glued to her sketch.

"So, tell me about your life…" Brittany said with interest.

"Uh, it's not that much," Santana smiled half-heartedly.

"Really?" There was that doubting tone again.

"I don't know…there's not much to tell," Santana said.

_There's not much that I want to tell you._ Santana thought.

"Okay, so I'll just tell you all about my life," Brittany crossed her legs and leaned on the bench. Her blonde hair was fluttering in the wind, making her more adorable, if possible.

"Okay," Santana closed her sketch pad and smiled at Brittany, looking expectantly as she waited for the blonde to tell her story.

"I was born in England, but I grew up moving from place to place," Brittany started. "My dad, he owns a recording label in France and a few hotels, mostly in the Asian parts of the world. I love to go there," Brittany smiled and looked up at Santana, who was trying to swallow all the information she had heard.

"I really love my family. You seem I'm the only child and it kind of gets lonely sometimes, thank God I have Kurt, my gay friend. He works at Vogue. Have you ever heard of Rachel Berry? She was my childhood friend when we lived in LA when I was young. We went to NYADA together."

_My father owned Lopez Shipyards, Lopez Real Estates, Lopez Steel and StarOils, and my mother's a stockholder in Paramount Pictures. Rachel Berry works for my mom. I was born in Puerto Rico and I have a brother named Agustin. I have an awesome best friend named Noah Puckerman and he has a girlfriend named Quinn Fabray. I ride skateboards and rob stores. I finished my high school studies in Universidad de Academia de Loyola. I studied at the New York University of Fine Arts._ _But, I dropped out._

Santana looked at the blonde beside her. "Wow, that's awesome, Britt-Britt."

"Yeah, well…I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I am happy right now. I think I am…well, frustrated," Brittany said out loud.

"You sound like you're admitting it to yourself," Santana smiled. "Tell me about it."

"Well, first of all…I'm getting married in nine days," Brittany sighed. She instantly regretted saying her words as she saw Santana's shoulders sag, but it only lingered on for a fraction of a second.

Santana stared at her and smiled, although her black obsidian ones weren't participating in that plastered smile on her face. "Is that why you're in doubt? Because you are getting married?"

"No…I just…I don't know, I just felt as if," Brittany sighed. "I don't know."

"Hey, look…things like this happen sometimes, you know," Santana looked at the setting sun just behind her. "There's a difference between losing that spark in a moment and living that same person for forever. Just like the sun. It shines half of the day, and it's gone…we can't see it, we can't feel it but we know it's there."

Brittany looked at her, her frustrated blue eyes contrasting the pinkish-orange glow of the sky due to the setting sun.

"What I mean is you shouldn't worry about it too much. You shouldn't figure love out so much because…no one really has the power to figure it out. Not fate, not destiny…we can't really know how it ends," Santana smiled languidly at her. Although, Brittany had seen Santana's misty eyes, she did not say a word.

"Wow," Brittany sighed. "Maybe you're right," suddenly, Brittany was worried. What if Santana stops seeing her? Suddenly she was so scared.

"I think I should get going, Dave had a lot to do. I have to help him, bye…" Santana hastily left Brittany and gathered her things. In her haste to leave, a loose leaf fell from one of her three sketch pads.

And Santana continued walking, quietly dabbing her silent tears.

_God, why was she acting like this? She barely knew Brittany and it's like…she's not that important to her. She barely knew her. How long had she known her? Two days, max. What the hell?_

But she can't deny it. Santana could not deny the fact that Brittany's confirmation of getting married in nine days actually sent a pang of pain into her cold, icy heart.


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm getting married in nine days…_

Santana twisted and turned in her hammock that night. The same words Brittany had told her that afternoon was earth-shattering, at least to her.

"Santana, are you alright?" Dave looked at her as she twisted uncomfortably in Blaine's bed. Blaine had been manoeuvring the ship.

"I'm fine, Dave," Santana said exasperatedly. Then she turned and faced the wall, struggling to sleep. She shut her eyes close, praying that it would be morning already. True enough, she woke up to the beeping of the alarm clock. It read four in the morning.

It was another day. She stepped out into the deck, hoping that she would be able to clear her head off. But someone was already there.

It was Brittany.

"I thought you were sleeping here," she said softly.

"No, I wasn't. Blaine was on his night-shift, so…I slept on his bed," she leaned and watched the sunrise quietly. She did not venture out to look into the blonde's eyes, for fear of what she might see in them.

"Well, I was hoping I'd find you here, I wanted to talk to you," she started to move away from the deck. "But, maybe some other time, then. My mother would be waiting for me at breakfast."

"Okay," Santana said softly. She had noticed Brittany's voice. It was…strangled and weak. Then the blonde turned to her again. "Your jacket," Brittany said softly as she slid the jacket from her shoulders.

Santana accepted it, although Brittany was still holding it. "Thanks, but keep it. It's still cold. And I know you are cold," Santana gave it back to Brittany.

Brittany left Santana, wondering what Santana had meant. Her pace quickened as she felt hot tears pour down her cheeks.

_And I know you are cold…_

Santana went back to her bunk and made herself a cup of coffee. It was another day.

And it meant eight more days to go. No, six days…six days until the ship docks!

Santana sat up and stared at the calendar that was nailed on the wall. They're due to Paris in six days. Six days…and they will be separated. Santana changed her sleeping clothes into her usual khaki and grey colour. She had a lot to do.

Her day whizzed at work and she thanked the gods for it, because if it wasn't she would've thought and sulked at a soon-to-be married woman she doesn't really have to do with. By sundown, she was bending over the stern to look at the sea.

"I love the sea creatures…" Brittany said softly. "I love them…because, they're free…"

Santana looked at her, and for the first time since that awful afternoon that Brittany had told her she's getting married, she saw Brittany's pained, suffering expression.

"Why are you here?"

"I want to talk to you, Santana."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Why you ran away from home…" Brittany said softly. "Look, I don't want to offend you, but from the looks of it, you did not tell anybody who you really are. I know you, Santana."

"That's none of your business."

"Believe me, it is. I am your friend," Brittany's voice hitched. "I care about you. I haven't told anyone yet, but I want to hear an explanation. Straight from you."

"I wanted to be free, that's the reason," Santana said flatly. "Happy?"

Brittany did not answer. Instead, she just looked down to the water. The silence between them was deafening.

"So, what will happen when the ships docks?" it was Brittany who broke the dead silence that's covering the thick air around them. She looked at Santana's way.

"I get off the ship. You get off the ship. We end ways," Santana replied as she looked at the blonde in front of her, trying to smile. But her smile came out crooked.

"Santana, ever since I have known you…you were the most amazing person I have met," Brittany suddenly took the Latina's hands into hers. "I really want you to be part of my life."

"So what will happen after you get off the ship?" Santana asked Brittany with her own question, dodging Brittany's dangerous statement and staring back at the blue waters.

"Be smart, for the rest of my life…" Brittany sighed. She also stared at the blue waters.

Silence followed suit. Neither of them started to speak, for fear of breaking the intimacy between them. Suddenly, Brittany felt the urgency of the moment, the need to tell her.

"Santana," she called out, her blue eyes boing into the brown ones. "Let's be smart for the rest of our lives, but let's be stupid, until the ship docks…"

Santana took Brittany's hand. "Let's go, I'll take you somewhere."

They ran down the small metal staircase towards the lowest level of the ship, into the third-class passengers. Santana opened a metal door for her and Brittany could hear the deafening music.

Before Brittany knew it, she was inside a club, with people milling about, holding soda cups. Actually, it was one of those bigger third-class cabins that are serving as an empty room, and somehow, the passengers had known how to make a way to make it useful.

Santana nodded to Dave, who was sitting behind the bar.

"What do you want to have?"

"Beer, and give my friend a glass of iced tea," Santana turned to Brittany. "You don't drink, right?"

"No, give me a beer," Brittany said. She might as well get drunk when she's single.

Dave handed to bottles of ice-cold beer to Santana, who in turn handed one bottle to Brittany. She calmly put the bottle on her mouth and took a sip, secretly watching the blonde beside her.

"Easy on the alcohol, Brittany," Santana smiled as Brittany got halfway on her bottle. "You want to dance?"

"Yeah," Brittany drawled. She stood up and went straight to the dance floor.

"Hey, wait up," Santana smiled as she joined Brittany on the dance floor. They danced a few steps at first, occasionally giggling and laughing at each other.

"You're a good dancer," Santana smiled as she hugged Brittany from behind.

"You too," Brittany said, grabbing a glass of martini from a passing waiter.

"Hey, hey. Easy." Santana took the glass away from the blonde. "Come on, let's just dance."

"Okay," she whimpered. She kept on dancing, and suddenly, she sensually started grinding her body into Santana.

"Whoa, you're too drunk…let's get you home," Santana said worriedly. She quickly dragged the blonde and carried her out of the room.

She sat Brittany up on a bench by the aisle towards Brittany's suite, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She had handed Brittany some mint gum to take the alcohol's smell from her breath.

"That was awesome," Brittany mumbled.

"Yeah," Santana smiled at the leaning figure on her shoulder. "Maybe when you get married, it would be a lot more different."

"I know, that's why I took this chance. Thanks, Santana," Brittany leaned up to kiss Santana's cheek.

"You're welcome," Santana smiled. "Come on, let's get you inside."

They stood up, and as they stood up, Peter, the Pierce's butler came out. "Oh, ma'am, good evening, I was just out to find you. Mrs. Pierce was worried. Where were you?"

"We were…uh…we were," Brittany was at a loss for words.

"We were stargazing," Santana said, clearing them off from Peter's inquiries.

"Yeah, I forgot the name…"

"Oh, I see. Get in, now ma'am…" Peter made room for Brittany to pass. "Good night, Miss?"

"Lopez."

"Good night, Miss Lopez."

"Okay, so…I will just go along. Good night, Brittany," Santana excused herself, although she earned a small smile from Peter, Brittany gave her a warm smile.

"Good night, Sanny."

Santana turned her heels, making her way towards the deck. She smiled to herself, but at the same time…she was worried at how it will end for them when the ship docks.


	10. Chapter 10

Santana was back under the bridge again, staring at the stars. She haven't seen or talked to Brittany all day. She hadn't seen her for almost two days, save for dinnertime the first day.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Anne Pierce had asked her over lamb chops on rare mint sauce.

"Right now, madam, I work at this ship. And I sketch during my free time," Santana answered. She was scared at Anne Pierce, but she had seemed to blend in, thanks to her real life.

But after dinner, Brittany had never seen her. She hasn't even texted her, which is probably the last thing Brittany would do.

She missed Brittany so much. And it's killing her.

Santana checked her wristwatch. It was still fifteen past three. She had to go back to sleep. The morning was still far.

Santana closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, and then suddenly someone was beside her, kneeling. The young Latina looked up and saw the face she had longed for all day.

"Good morning," it was Brittany's voice. Her pale hands caressed Santana's face. "Did I wake you up?"

"Sort of, not really," Santana gave her a goofy smile. "What brought you here?"

"Is there any room for me?" Brittany asked, clearly waiting for a confirmation.

"I think there's room for one more," Santana said as she shifted to one side of the hammock.

Santana felt Brittany's arm wrap around her, causing her to feel warmer than the usual, and her heartbeat was more than racing. It was as if it would rip out her chest and it will fly out the place.

"I've missed you all day. I haven't seen you," Brittany murmured. "Kurt came and took measures. He also asked me about the colour of the table napkins that I should use on the wedding day."

"Yellow would be good, but not too yellow," Santana said softly, feeling Brittany's body laying flush beside her. She just wished that they don't to be apart after the ship docks.

"Will you be staying in Paris after we get to land?" Brittany said softly.

"I think so," Santana said, twiddling the blonde locks around her fingers. "I don't really know."

"Santana, today is will be our last night in the ship," Brittany sighed. "I want to spend it with you."

A meaningful look registered on the young Hispanic's face. Suddenly, Santana looked at her like everything she says matter. "What do you want me to do?"

"Meet me here, on sunset. Please say you would, Santana, Promise me you would," Brittany pleaded desperately.

"I will meet you here, Brittany. I promise."

"Thank you," and with a quick peck on the Latina's lips, she sat up.

"What?" Santana sat up, too.

"I want you to hold my hand and we will watch the sun rise…together," Brittany emphasized the last word by holding Santana's left hand with her right.

"We will. We might not be able to do this again, but at least, I will have something to help me through the cold winter nights in Paris," Santana smiled sadly.

"I know…how it feels," innocent blue eyes looked up to Santana.

"You know you can't cheat on Sam, right?" Santana declared sadly. Brittany just nodded as a response.

"I'm sorry, Brittany," Santana said.

"Don't be sorry Santana," Brittany said, looking out into the rosy sky. "It's not our fault we fell in love. Maybe we just missed the right time, but falling in love is never a bad thing."

Santana looked at the blonde beside her, adoring her face, raking her full body with her eyes, trying to remember everything in that moment. Her lavender eyes that are piercing the dark obsidian ones were shining adamantly. "Brittany…" her voice was a whisper. Then she took Brittany's lips into her own hungry ones, devouring them, wanting them and never getting enough of them.

They parted for air a little after it. Santana looked at Brittany. "Promise me one thing, Brittany."

"What is it?" Brittany turned to her.

"Never forget me."

"Of course, I won't. That's a promise. Pinkie promise?" Brittany held out her little finger.

"Pinkie promise," Santana entwined her finger around Brittany's. Somehow, she had to adore the blonde's cuteness and goofiness, despite the hopeless situation they are in.

They watched the sun rise in the east slowly, until Brittany had to leave and Santana had to leave for work too. Brittany went up the stairs slowly, and it seemed slower than usual.

_Maybe because of the strain time had put them on._

Santana worked all day, but all throughout the ship, she felt the sadness. Maybe she wasn't alone feeling sad about their arrival. It seemed as if the whole ship was mourning.

She finished work, way later than usual. It was already thirty minutes past four, yet she still had those cloths to fold. She quickly folded the cloths carelessly. She's pretty certain that Brittany was waiting for her.

She skidded along the floor, and she quickly reached the deck. There was no one, no one waiting for her. Santana's heart dropped to the ground. She knew she had messed up her chance to tell her. Then, on the rails, she saw Brittany, her silhouette shadow standing against the twilight.

"I thought you forgot, or you fell overboard," Brittany said softly.

"How could I? I promised you I'd come, right?" Santana smiled as she climbed up to Brittany.

"Close your eyes, and let go of your mind…" Santana whispered against Brittany's ear. "Open them…"

Brittany opened her eyes. "San…I'm…I'm flying…"

"Fly with me," Santana's voice was raspy and deep. She held Brittany's hands in hers, and then slowly outstretched them.

"Are you happy now?" Santana asked.

"Yes," Brittany looked at her eyes. And then she leaned up to kiss Santana's plump lips.

Their kiss lingered on, for some more minutes, both of them couldn't really tell. Time had been paused as they kissed. It was heaven for them.

They watched the last rays of sunlight disappear into the night, as Brittany cuddled into Santana's warm body. The whole time, she never said anything, just staying content of what they are right at the moment.

It was Santana who stood up first, and then took Brittany's pale hand. "Come with me."

"Where are we going, Santana?"

"To the stars,"

Down, treading on the staircases, they made their way, carefully into the storeroom. Brittany wondered, but she was anticipating this, and she knows it.

The empty service room's door opened and closed. Under the dark, where you can't almost breathe, they shared the night skin on skin and their passions and moans were swallowed by the dark.

Santana looked up at Brittany, her place face glistening with sweat when the moon had hit it with its golden light. The blonde's mouth was hanging open, and was eliciting the most amazing sounds to Santana's ear as their lower halves meted over and over again. Santana wiped her forehead, the slickness of her sweat mixing with Brittany's.

"San…ahhh…" Brittany's eyes were half-lidded.

"Britt…Brittany…" hips rocked, spines shivered and legs twitched uncontrollably.

"Santana…ahhh," Brittany breathed hard as she toppled over the edge, her hips bucking into Santana, her body arching back as her legs locked like a vice at Santana's own legs. Her moans caused Santana to topple over the edge too, making her squirm and tremble.

Santana looked at Brittany's eyes. And Brittany looked back at her, running her pale fingers through the raven-black hair. "Are you nervous?"

"No, no…" Santana smiled, and then leaned forward to kiss the blonde's petulant lips. They stayed on for like that, for a few minutes, just cherishing the moment of intimacy between them.

They made love again.

Santana looked at the sleeping blonde beside her, contentedly leaning on the Hispanic's chest. The blonde was sleeping flush into the crook of Santana's neck. And without her knowing, Santana had bent over the blonde and whispered those three words she never thought she would say.

"I love you," she breathed hard. It never occurred to her, but right now, it made her realize she's damn in love with a blonde who's going to be married.

"San? What time is it?' Brittany stirred.

"It's almost four in the morning, the sun would be up soon," Santana rolled over her eyes. "We have to go back now."

Brittan sat up, and looked at her. "Santana…" she stared at the Hispanic who is dressing up.  
"I wish we ca-"

"Shh…" Santana put her right index finger ever so lightly. Santana smiled. "I know what you want to say. Let's watch the sun rise."

Slowly, they dressed. They never wanted it to end, but they had to go back. They slowly trudged the stairs back to the deck.


	11. Chapter 11

The sky was already rosy when they stood on the deck, and both of them did not say a word for a long time, just watching the sky. The silence was comfortable, and Santana stood there, looking at Brittany for the last time.

The lights of Paris were shining in their sight.

"On my wedding, on the Eiffel, you wouldn't be there…" Brittany whispered.

"I don't know. I want to see you happy," Santana said softly.

"I can't be happy, I think."

"You will be, I know you will be," Santana smiled sadly. "Come on, let's get you to your suite."

Brittany softly nodded. "I think we should…" Brittany caught on her last word. She said it in a soft whisper as if saying no. "…go"

They walked hand in hand, pinkies linked together, towards the first-class suites. The aisles and hallways were empty, and there was no one around. When they came to the aisle that led to Brittany's suite, Santana stopped.

"Don't you want to go inside?" Brittany said to Santana worriedly.

"No. Brittany, this is it. This will be our last. We'll walk our separate ways. No looking back," Santana moved to kiss Brittany. Her lips urgently met the blonde's, moving in a frantic, heated kiss.

They separated, unwillingly. And then Santana kissed her for the last time, and counted. "One, two, three…now."

They both turned their backs from each other. And both started walking with Santana towards the deck and Brittany towards her suite. With every step, they moved farther and farther.

Brittany looked back to Santana. Black hair flowing from her shoulders, back straight, Santana did not falter walking. But her hand were dabbing at her eyes.

_She's crying._ Brittany thought. She wanted so much to run back to her, engulf her in her arms and tell her she can't live with her.

_But hadn't Santana walked away from her?_

Quiet tears fell silently as Brittany watched the fading shadow out into the distance. She turned to her door and slipped inside…straight to her bedroom and started crying, muting her sounds and sniffs as she put the pillows on her face.

"Hey, wake up…" Kurt bent over her and tapped her forehead lightly. She had fallen into a nap.

"Huh?" Brittany said as she sat up.

"Have you been crying?" Kurt asked.

"No," she said softly. "What's up?"

"We're in Paris," Kurt said happily. But instead of freaking out with Kurt and be happy, Brittany did not feel any better. Instead, it made her feel worse.

Kurt finally noticed the dead glaze in her eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little sleepy," Brittany sighed. "I'll just go, brush my teeth."

Brittany looked at herself in the mirror. She never felt better. In fact, she felt like she had just been shot dead.

"Come on. Let's get you dressed. What do you want? The lavender one?" Kurt appeared behind her. "Let's out you in fresh make-up."

"Kurt…" Brittany said exasperatedly.

Kurt dressed her, had her face made-up and took her to the living room. Everyone, who has eyes marvelled at her beauty.

"You look gorgeous," Peter smiled.

"Come on, all of you, let's wait on the deck," Robert Pierce stood up. Peter, as if from a routine, quickly opened the door and let them out.

"So, last night was beautiful," Anne mumbled as she held on Brittany's arm. When they came in the upper deck, Brittany's eyes instantly scanned the whole place below, hoping desperately that she'd be able to find a certain brunette.

_She did not see Santana._

She stood there, smiling at the people by the wharf. Then they continued on to the lounge, where they stood laughing about. Brittany walked in the promenade, where Sam had met her and walked her to the car.

"So, how was the trip?" Sam asked her.

"It was beautiful," Brittany said softly. The feeling was back. But Brittany could not also deny the fact that she was unhappy about leaving Santana. Brittany felt the car move, and it's only then she had known deep in her heart that she might never see Santana again.

Santana carried her rucksack and backpacks to the terminal, clearing out of the security. She stopped by a foreign exchange counter and had her dollars swapped for francs. She quickly outstretched her arm as she hailed a taxi.

"American?" an Asian guy asked.

"Yeah," Santana smiled. "I want to find an apartment."

"Pfftt…" the man smiled. "Put your seatbelt on."

They drove through the city streets, and pulled up on a not-so-sophisticated building. Santana got out of the car and looked at the taxi driver quizzically.

"That's what you want, apartelle," the man gestured to the inn. He blew his horn a few times, and an Asian woman stepped out.

"She needs a place to stay," the man said.

"Can I stay for a few weeks, here?" Santana asked.

"Nine hundred francs, for a month."

"Six hundred," Santana said.

"Eight."

"Seven…"

"Seven fifty," the woman said.

"Deal," Santana concluded.

Santana finished unpacking her clothes into the little closet and sat on the bed, noticing the sketch pad by her bed. She flipped it open and turned to a certain page.

The girl was smiling, secretly on her own. Santana looked at the sketch intently, and sighed.

_She missed Brittany so much._

Later in the afternoon, she walked along the streets, not really caring where she would go, not even caring at where she would go. Santana was just looking at the views and scenes of everyday Paris.

She stopped by to buy a croissant and munched on it slowly as she walked around. Her thoughts flying somewhere else.

More specifically, to a certain blonde named Brittany Pierce.

Her mind hopscotched from 'what could she be doing' to 'I hope she's fine' to 'I hope she's happy'. Her mind was full of what ifs, what could have beens, and I hopes. And then Santana had realized that her life can't be complete without seeing Brittany.

And as if an answer to her prayers, Santana walked in front of a magazine stall and a familiar face caught her.

It's Brittany and Sam on the cover. But when Santana read the caption underneath it, there was that ugly maggot that seemed to eat inside Santana's heart.

_The wedding of the year, Sam Evans and Brittany Pierce._

Santana read more of it and something caught her eye. Brittany's bridal shower was tonight in Palais du Lis.

_I'll be seeing her again. I will see her again. Even for the last time._

Santana quickly turned her heels towards the curb, determined to see the girl she had fallen in love with. The streets were congested from the traffic and she had to walk.

It was started to get dark as she walked and Santana was kind of tired. Palais du Lis was several blocks away, and it was stressing Santana out.

_But she won't stop._

"Watch your gown, missy," Kurt was walking behind Brittany as they entered the grand ball room.

"I'm watching it, Kurt," Brittany smiled half-heartedly. Brittany warily looked around the room as she entered it, expecting a lot of cameras to meet her. And she wasn't failed by her expectation.

"Smile," she mumbled to herself as she painstakingly mustered a warm smile on her face. In all honesty, after she saw Santana walk away from her, she doubted that she would be happy, ever again.

"Hey," someone smiled at her. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Brittany awkwardly moved to the farther side of the room, just near the long windows and looked at the door, hoping that Santana would walk in and take her away to somewhere and never come back.

_But that would never happen._

She looked down the city, shining with all the great lights and seeming so lively and happy. Brittany sighed.

Why did life just play a joke on her? Could it be that Santana was the one for her? True, she's happy with Sam, but she feels something when she's with Santana. Somehow, when she's with her…she feels so…alive.

In her frustration, she looked up. And her eyes caught to something on top of the next building.

Standing there and looking at her, straight in the eye was Santana. The Latina just stood there, her grey hoodie flapping against the wind.

Brittany almost wanted to cry, knowing that she can't see or hear or touch her again. With a sad smile, Brittany turned away from the window. She can't bear to look at Santana for one more second, for fear that she would break away.

Tears silently fell from the chocolate-brown eyes as Santana watched Brittany shake her head and look up to her with the pained look in deep-blue eyes.

Santana stared at the empty window.

_No one was there, no one would be waiting, no one will be there…_

Silently, Santana walked away, her tears falling into droplets on the hard concrete.


	12. Chapter 12

Brittany stared at her own reflection on the vanity mirror, her eyes a clear manifestation of her suffering soul inside her. Kurt was busily swabbing a dash of foundation below her neck. She often wondered if Santana could feel her pain too.

"Let me put some eyeliner on your eyes," Kurt said.

"Kurt…" Brittany said out, calling him as if she was a hundred worlds away from her reality, her voice hollow and cold.

"Yeah?"

"What if…what if Sam is not the right man for me?" Brittany asked, her eyes full of frustration.

"Why? I think what you have for the both of you is true love," Kurt smiled.

"Really?" Brittany smiled sadly.

"Yeah, you look good together," Kurt grinned. Suddenly, her mother appeared on the door. For a minute, Anne lingered on the doorway, and then sat on the bed. She ran her hand on the

"Kurt, can you leave us, for a while?"

Kurt nodded and packed up his cosmetics, and exited the room. Once she was out of earshot, Anne moved towards Brittany and stood beside her daughter.

"Are you alright, Brittany?" she bent low just enough for Brittany to hear her whisper.

"Y-yes, mom…"

Silence enveloped the whole room as Anne waited for Brittany to start speaking her thought out.

"Mom, please don't…let's just don't go out into public. Can we do the wedding, just in a private place?"

"But the media had already made the bookings," Anne blurted out.

"Mom," Brittany begged. "Please? Just, please…tell dad he'd do it," Brittany clutched her mother's arm.

"I'm sorry, we just can't stop them from covering the event. But, we can minimize it. We can just allow them from the outside. Will it be enough?"

Brittany sighed and looked at her mother. "Yeah."

"It will be alright," Anne smiled softly. "It will be fine, they're just going to cover the event, dear. Well, I have to be going now," Anne stood up and left for the door.

"And, Brittany…" Anne said softly from the doorway. "True love, it hurts, doesn't it? Sometimes, you have to make a decision," Anne continued to walk out of the room.

It left Brittany wondering what it meant, leaving her own thoughts behind. She quickly rose up and called Kurt to finish making her face up. Her mind was still in a boggle, but she could not make a decision, not right now.

Kurt came in along with Rachel, both of them chattering noisily. Kurt went back to his work and Rachel sat beside Brittany, distracting her all the while. Finally, as if a prayer's answer, Rachel stood up.

"Can I use the bathroom?" she asked, putting her phone on the bedside table.

"Yeah, sure," Brittany smiled.

"Ugh, what the hell? I left the hairspray in my room! Hang on, I'll be right back, just a minute," Kurt said as he looked at Brittany.

As Kurt left for the hairspray, Rachel's phone vibrated. Brittany looked warily towards the room, and called Rachel.

Rachel came out of the room and stared at her phone. "You didn't read this, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Brittany shook her head.

"Uhh, okay, I'll just go…outside for a while," Rachel excused herself hurriedly, leaving Brittany behind, alone and anticipating for Kurt. A leaf from a sketch pad quickly took her attention, Santana's drawing the winged man that was chained.

"Let go," she muttered, not to the drawing or at Santana, but at herself. But her thoughts went back to her parents.

_She can't disappoint them. She can't turn back._

Her mind raced back to Santana. She knows for the time that it should have been Santana, not Sam, who should be waiting for her. It should be her, her heart screamed out her name.

But it was a little bit late for something like that. She'd just think that what happened to her and Santana was a dream. A dream that she would probably keep locked in her heart and never mention to any living soul.

Kurt came in the room, abruptly stopping the tears that were welling up from Brittany's eyes. He noticed the tears right away, although he blamed it on the eyeliner. No sooner, Kurt continued on outing the make-up on Brittany's face.

All the while, Santana was on her bed, sulking and holding a half-empty beer bottle on her right hand. She took a swig from the bottle, finishing it up. She rolled the beer bottle on the floor, and it joined its other comrades just below the couch. Clothes and paper scattered about, with cans of Heineken and spilled beer mixing on them. Shredded and crumpled paper scattered all over the place.

The TV was turned on, and it's airing the wedding preparations. Throngs of people were on the streets, peeking at the wedding venue. Media men, spectators and journalists weren't allowed to be inside once the ceremony had started.

Santana drunkenly stood up from the bed, snuck her socks into her sneakers and walked out her apartment. She walked clumsily on the streets, making her way towards Brittany's wedding venue.

"Watch it!" an American man yelled out from his car window and blared his horn. Yet, Santana went on, undaunted, and never caring about it.

She can't get inside, so she went away, grumbling to herself. Too many people were in the street and to her frustration, she left the place, knowing that she would never, ever see Brittany…ever again…

She entered her flat, knocking the lampstand beside the doorway, she flopped on the bed, and tightly shutting her eyes as the pulsating ache in her head became stronger and stronger.

"Sam, congratulations!" Sam shook hands with the well-wisher. He was someone he had known from the business meetings his father had held in their office.

"Thanks, Agustin," Sam grinned. "How was school, by the way? Is your father around?"

"Great," Agustin smiled as an older version of him stepped up front.

"I'm here Sam," the man smiled. "How is the soon-to-be-groom doing?"

"Oh, very fine, sir," Sam smiled. "How about the stocks, eh, Mr. Lopez?"

"Very fine," he grinned. Then he turned to Sam's father. "How about uhh…we'll leave the boys here?"

"Sure, Alejandro, let's have some coffee, if you'd please," Mr. Evans smiled at Agustin's father.

"How about uhh…your sister, has she been found yet?" Sam asked worriedly.

"I still haven't. Papi had been very worried," Agustin sighed. "Papi said that if San comes back home, he would make it up to her. You know how much she is of a wild spirit. You can never tie her home," Agustin chuckled.

"You love her, do you? You should let her do what she wants," Sam smiled sadly.

"Hey, that's no way to celebrate your wedding," Agustin smiled. "By the way, where's your bride?"

"She's coming," Sam exhaled.

_She's coming…_

"Brittany, are you alright?" Anne asked her daughter as they were left alone in the room. She was wondering why Brittany had that distant, frustrated look.

"Yeah, Mom," Brittany answered softly, wanting to avoid a heart-to-heart talk with her mother. It scared her so much and she can't lie to her mother. "I'm…I'm just nervous."

"Why? Aren't you happy? Ever since we came here to Paris, you had that…lonely, pained look on your face," Anne moved by her side. "Tell me."

Brittany looked away as the seconds ticked. Her mother had quietly moved back to her side of the bed. Anne wondered what her child could have felt at the moment. She had a hunch, but she just wished it would be a wrong guess.

"Mom, what will you do for someone you love?" Brittany asked, not looking at her, but just looking at the sketch Santana had made.

"She's not coming? That art friend of yours?"

"No, Mom, tell me what you will do?"

"If you ask me, I would stop at nothing. You deserve the one you love, Brittany," Anne took her daughter's hand in hers. "We love people, because we feel that we deserve them. You have to know that, at the end, it's not about who you end up with, it's about who owns that," Anne smiled as she pointed Brittany's chest.

Brittany thankfully looked up to her mother. "Congratulations, Brittany," the two women hugged each other, and in a few moments, they let go.

As the car that will take her to the church, where the wedding will be held. AS the car moved closer and closer, Brittany's resolve was getting stronger and stronger, making her feel more certain of what she's about to do, what she's going to, and who she really belongs with.

_The car pulled up in front of the church._


	13. Chapter 13

Santana looked up at the Metro. Its dark walls towered over her as if mocking her. She patiently looked at her watch, and then counted from one to thirty, then counted back. It was a long wait for Santana.

The sunset had been mellow, when she left, and now, only a little streaks and rays of the remaining sun were licking the last mounds of the structures of Paris. Santana turned her face from left to right, obviously looking for someone she was waiting for.

"Santana," a voice called. The Latina turned swiftly to where the voice came from. "Ii received your text. I did not know you're in Paris."

"Agustin," she stood up to meet her brother, without any warning, she quickly hugged her brother. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. You ought to be thankful that Papi's friend invited him here in Paris," Agustin grinned widely.

"Papi is here?"

"Yeah. He misses you so much, Santana," Agustin smiled sadly. "Please come home. We miss you so much, Papi and Mami…they can't go on without you."

"Agustin, I can't come home right now. If Papi sees me, he would hate me so much," Santana said softly as Agustin sat beside her on the bench she was sitting on.

"No, Santana. Papi loves you, maybe he just loves you too much," her brother looked into the very same eyes he had. "Please, see him?"

There was a silence as Santana and Agustin locked gazes. Finally, Santana stared out into the distance.

"Alright, I'll see him," Santana said softly.

"Come," Agustin smiled heartily. "We wouldn't want you to miss dinner with Papi, right?"

Santana smiled slightly as she stood up on the bench. Well, maybe she'd just go back to her family if she can't see Brittany. Maybe a little isolation and locking up would be best for her so that she can forget Brittany.

The streets were slickly wet because of the drizzle that poured out from the overcast sky as Agustin and Santana drove to the hotel where Alejandro Lopez was checking in. Santana's heart raced up and down, making her feel jumpy and nervous.

"Relax, Santana. It's not like Papi's going to chain you or tie you to a bedpost, you know," Agustin smiled at Santana, who was endlessly crossing and recrossing her fingers together.

"I…I just don't know where to start," Santana looked warily at her brother.

"Don't start, then," Agustin quipped as he turned to a basement parking. "Let Papi talk, then he would tell you how much he loves you."

"Okay," Santana nervously chattered as they waited for the elevator to lift them up to their floor.

They elevator dinged, giving cue to the Lopez kids that the elevator has arrived. Santana went inside, then Agustin followed. The Lopez boy pressed their floor number and eased back. Santana, on the other hand, could never really ease back. Her hands were occasionally fidgeting and twiddling her dark black locks.

With each passing ding of the elevator, Santana grew more and more nervous. Her sweaty forehead was glistening under the light of the overhead LED. Agustin eyed at her silently, and the elevator halted.

"We're here…" Agustin stepped out into a carpeted hallway. Santana followed suit and walked by her brother.

"I'm nervous, Agustin." Santana drawled

"It will be okay, Santana," Agustin smiled reassuringly. "I'm pretty sure you will be."

Agustin quickly opened the door and ushered the young Latina inside. As Santana took a careful step towards the den, where her father would certainly be sitting, a clearing throat reverberated through the air.

"I've missed you, Santana," her father was on the doorway leading to the den.

"Papi," Santana drawled as she ran to her father. Tan, nimble arms wrapped around Alejandro's neck.

"Santana," Alejandro mumbled. He quickly looked at the young Latina cradled in his strong arms. "We missed you. You had us all worried," Alejandro said, his voice very different from the strict, constricted voice he had always used on Santana.

"Papi, are you mad at me?" Santana asked, fearing that her father would tell her that he had disowned her.

"I'm so sorry, Santana," Alejandro said softly, tears almost welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just realized now that I had been too strict on you. I just want to protect you so much, that I did not think about your happiness. I can see my mistake now. I'm so sorry. I will make it up to you, I promise. I'm giving you your freedom. I love you so much, Santana. I…I love you. Will you please forgive me?"

"Papi," Santana said, her tears profusely falling from her eyes. "Of course, Papi, I will always forgive you. I will always forgive you. I love you, Papi," she motioned for Agustin to come over, and her brother joined Santana and her father.

Alejandro and Santana took their time sitting in the ledge of Alejandro's suite, sipping tea quietly and just talking. Agustin was with them, cracking jokes all the while and laughing with his sibling. Their father, although was a little more reserved and composed.

"So, what brought you back to your senses?" Agustin asked as their father stood up to refill the teakettle.

"Let's just say…I've grown up, Agustin."

"Mhm…" Agustin nodded. "So what's after this?"

"After what?" Santana asked.

"After all this. I mean you have your freedom, you get to do what you love, and you get to do what you really love," Agustin smiled.

"Well, for starters…I'll go to Greece or Sicily or somewhere…tropical," Santana gave out a sad slow smile.

"Oi, what's with that smile?" Agustin quipped.

Santana shook her head. "It's nothing, Agustin."

"Oi, someone broke your heart, eh?" Agustin grinned, and then suddenly shifted from warm to serious. "What happened, Santana?"

"I…yeah," Santana stood up and took the car keys on the coffee table. "Stop asking questions. Can I borrow your car for a while? I need to get my things back at the flat."

"Okay, I'll go with you, will it be okay?" Agustin asked his sister, who was starting for the door already. His sister did not answer, but he went with her anyway.

"Look, Agustin," Santana sighed, her badassery surfacing.

"Alright, freedom," Agustin held up both of his hands. Santana snickered, then turned for the door. But before she could lock the door, Alejandro was looking at her, straight through her eye, his face unreadable.

"Where are you going?"

Santana felt as if she was being pulled back to the same bottomless pit all over again. She finally looked into her father's face and answered bravely.

"I'm going to get my things."

She braced herself for an upcoming argument that would probably end to an epic fight between her and her father. Santana cocked her head arrogantly.

"Wipe that arrogant look, and drive carefully," it was all her father had said. Then her father just went on to serve his son tea, leaving Santana there, standing rooted to the floor, and not knowing what to do.

_He did not even tell me to go back. What could be wrong?_

Realizing that her father wouldn't do anything, Santana left for her apartment hurriedly. She drove under speed limit, although her eyes were impatiently glued to the road. She flew up the stairs up to her floor, gathered up her things, rucksack, sketch pads and all.

In less than an hour, Santana was driving back to her father's suite.

Dinner for three was on the table as Santana, Alejandro and Agustin sat at the table. The young Latina quietly sat on her place, like the way she had been told. She loaded her plate with appetizers, and after it, started to go to the main course.

"Santana…you'd like to go to Greece?" her father looked at her through the champagne-filled glass. "Your brother accidentally told me during coffee."

"I…I…" Santana stammered as her father's words made her have a difficulty to grasp for words.

"I want you to check on out our steel fabrications in Athens," her father said, his tone consistently keeping it very business-like.

"Are…are you sure about that, Papi?" Santana asked, the name she had never called her father slipped out of her tongue.

"Of course, mija, you even reached Paris without being noticed by the cops and you think you can't handle a steel factory?"

"What I mean is, I might need some help," Santana smiled at her father.

_There might be a chance for their father-daughter relationship to work out, after all._

"Don't worry, I'm here. When things start to get uncontrollable, I'm here. I just want you to check on it…will you do that for me?" her father asked.

"Of course, of course," Santana nodded.

"Thank you," Alejandro took a bite of the turkey on his plate. "Yummy," he grinned.

_And Santana saw someone who is not a dictator, but a father._


	14. Chapter 14

The blue Mediterranean was empty, just like the sky above it. And so were the staring blue eyes that reached farther than the horizon. They were empty, as if the heart that had pumped life through it had been ripped out by some monster.

"You've been acting like that since your wedding day," Kurt said behind the blonde-haired girl that's standing by the sea.

"It's not my wedding day, Kurt. It was supposed to be my wedding day."

"Look, Brittany, I can't fully understand why you had to give up on Sam. I thought you fell in love with someone, but look at you, it' been three months since you became the runaway bride but, no one was here for you, you're like…locking yourself up, shutting yourself away from the world," Kurt said.

"Kurt, do you know what insanity means? It means doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result," Brittany said softly as she stared out into the ocean.

"What do you mean?"

"Kurt," Brittany looked at her friend. "I don't want to be alone anymore, I just want her back," tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Brittany, please, you've been waiting for her for months, she's not going to come back to you, plus your parents…what would they say? You know why you're here…and that's to forget the pain," Kurt's voice was full of pity.

"She'll be back, she'll find me. We'll find each other," Brittany left Kurt on the beach and ran to the house where she had been staying in the coast of Greece. She had been looking for Santana for months, and there has never been any news from the Hispanic.

She flopped down her bed and memories started to flood back as Kurt's words and his voice replayed over and over in her mind.

"_It's been three months Brittany, since you became the runaway bride…"_

_The streets were congested as they drove towards the chapel where the wedding should be held, and the more that Brittany is nearing the venue, she felt more and more dreading. She can't face them all. And she can't bear to hurt Sam. But she can't sacrifice her own happiness as well._

_The car halted in front of the chapel, and revealing a very beautiful Brittany Susan Pierce, making people marvel at the sight of the blonde on a wedding dress._

_Sam was smiling at her, his face almost breaking in half because of his wide grin. Suddenly, Brittany felt like turning back, running back until she can catch up with time, and they will run back to an earlier part of her life._

_A part where a certain Santana Lopez had existed._

_However, Kurt had already nudged her to walk and she started to parade down the aisle. Her heart was beating rapidly, loudly screaming that same name she had been thinking about in that cruise ship._

"_Sam Evans, do you take this woman, Brittany Pierce, to be you lawfully wedded wife, for better or for worse, for sickness and good health, 'till death do you part?"_

"_Yes father, I do."_

"_Brittany Pierce, do you take this man, Sam Evans, to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better or for worse, for sickness and good health, 'till death do you part?"_

_Silence._

_Brittany felt her heartbeat ripping through her eardrums. She felt nauseated, yet se held on and her throat seemed dry. She looked at Sam, straight in the eye and instantly, the man in front of her read her eyes._

_His face fell._

"_I'm…I'm sorry, Sam," she whispered. "I can't. There's someone else, I can't. I'm sorry."_

_With that, she left the chapel through the back door and into the courtyard, knowing that the door by the wall was closed, she waited for her parents to walk in._

"_This is outrageous, what's happening with you, Brittany?" her father asked her, his face full of confusion as he came in. It was pure frustration, not anger._

"_I'm sorry Dad," She hung her head limply. "I fell in love with someone else."_

"_What do you mean someone else?" her father inquired._

"_I…I fell in love with someone else. I can't marry Sam, and I can't hurt him. If I marry him, I would end up hurting him and he might end up hurting me. Dad, I've always wanted to please you but for now, please, let me be happy," tears fell from Brittany's eyes. She turned to her mother._

"_Mom, you said true love is not easy, I know. I'm sorry it took so long, but right now, I have to fight for what makes me happy. And I am willing to suffer, just to fight for my true love."_

_Her father wanted to say something, but Anne shushed him. "Rob, I think it's tiem to let her go and let her be happy."_

_With that, Robert called the family driver to take them home._

_The next day, she called Sam and had lunch with him, ending their relationship formally._

Brittany rose up, went down the stairs and saw that Kurt was gone. He was in Tuscany for a few days and he flew in from there to drop her a visit. Sicily wasn't the best of places, but there was something about the sea that calmed her senses.

_Maybe it's because the sea had reminded her of Santana._

She stared out to the darkening sea as the sun set down, giving the sky a rosy colour. Again she had seen that familiar brunette, smiling to her, waiting for her…

Santana looked up to her father who was standing in front of her desk. "So, what do you think? I never saw you when I came in. Have you seen the stocks?"

"Of course, first, Greece, then Austria, India, now Germany, I must admit, Miss Lopez, you are born a broker," her father smiled and set down the tray of milk and cookies.

"I baked them. I know you go crazy over them," Alejandro laughed.

Santana thanked her father, and shared the cookies with him. During one or two cookies, Santana just nibbled it and watched her father look around.

"What's her name, Santana?" Alejandro looked at the sketch pad Santana had carefully framed.

At first, Santana hesitated to answer. But her father looked at her quizzically and smiled softly.

"Believe me, Santana," hand held Santana's own hands. "I know. I care about you and, I am not against of who you are."

_Had her father known that she had an affair with the woman on her sketch pad?_

She took a deep breath and sighed. "Her name is Brittany Pierce."

"Brittany Pierce? She's beautiful," Alejandro said softly, not actually meaning his words. His mind had been turning as he laid out a plan.

_Well, this might be a good time to make up for his wrongs on this child._

Santana went back to her desk and started reviewing the sales pitch from the world exchange. Her life had revolved mainly on her father's business. It was tedious, but at least, it seemed to take her off her mind from Brittany, at least, when she's at work.

At night, she had to drink a couple of shots from her favourite brandy bottle just to force herself to sleep, only to be woken up by her nightmares.

_Her nightmares of a certain blonde._

Sometimes, she would dream that she's sitting on the deck, watching her, like the first time she had seen her face. Or she would sometimes dream of her as the young girl who sat with her, watching the sunlight, only to find the light of day in her lonely bed.

"Santana," her mind snapped from its daze.

"Yes, Papi?"

"Well, I was thinking, maybe you should take a break," her father said.

"Break? From what?" Santana's brows furrowed.

"What I mean is, you should be going back to doing things that you do. Like, painting, sketching…stuff, you know what I mean."

"But, Papi, what about the business?"

"Business, that I can handle, but I can't handle a child that's a workaholic. I think I can handle the badass daughter of mine," her father chuckled.

"Papi," Santana wailed.

"He's right, Tana. Maybe you should be going for a vacation or something, like go to Bora-Bora, or Jamaica…" her mother came into the room.

"Sicily?" her father chimed in. "You said you wanted to see the sunset on Sicily."

"I didn't!" Santana quipped.

"You did," Agustin smiled giddily as he came in Santana's study. "And I got you this," he slid a white-coloured envelope on the table towards Santana.

Santana, in turn opened the sealed envelope in her hands. It revealed a two-way ticket to Sicily, and it's due to leave the next afternoon. She looked quizzically to her father, then to her mother, then to her brother.

"So? Are you taking the deal, Miss Lopez?" her father jokingly said.

"Miss Lopez," Agustin mimicked his father's tone. "Go on, sis," he nudged his sister to agree.

"You deserve it, Santana. And also, consider this as a peace-offering," her Mami smiled.

Santana did not say a word. Instead, she hugged her father and later was joined by her mother, and lastly Agustin.

_She had a perfect life, through all the turns, after all._

The next afternoon, she left Los Angeles for Sicily, bringing with her the old rucksack she had and the sketch pads that she had treasured the most.


	15. Chapter 15

Santana looked out to the deep-blue Mediterranean as the sun had set. It had been a week since her flight. Three more weeks and she's out of Sicily. She never liked it, because as the days pass, her loneliness started to eat her.

She looked into the fridge, wanting to nibble on something.

"Damn," she cursed at the fridge. She's running out of beer.

Alcohol was something Santana had grown with, and right now that she had to miss Brittany, she felt that alcohol was and has always been there to let her forget the blonde that was haunting her dreams.

_Maybe she'll just do the grocery tomorrow._

She went into the kitchen and stared at her sink. It was full of dishes unwashed. She settled in cleaning her house, just to let the time pass and let her mind get off things. Well, away from a certain blonde. She ran the warm water on the dirty dishes and started to pour the liquid dishwashing soap on it.

She scoured the accumulated coffee remain on her mug. She's not really a person who had hated housework, but dishwashing seemed to take a longer time to finish.

She finished doing the dishes in half an hour and decided to clean up her room. As she made her way to the stairs, the kitchen phone rang.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hey Satan!" it was Puck's voice.

"Hey, Puck!" she smiled, even though there was no one in front of her and Puck can't see her grin at all.

"Guess what?" Puck excitedly said.

"What?"

"We're in Sicily," Puck chuckled from the other line. "Quinny, don't do that."

"How long will it take you to get a travel to the western coast? I'm in Sicily," Santana said excitedly. She was dying for someone to cure her loneliness and she's thankful Puck was there to help her.

"See for yourself. We're pulling up in front of your damn house," Puck snickered. He actually came in just to make sure Santana is okay. Quinn had actually brought up the idea, and has badgered him ever since, so it took him a week to stand up to his girlfriend's ranting before giving in to Quinn's request.

Santana ran outside and saw a black Nissan Navarra pull up in front of her house and parked next to four-wheel drive Toyota Hilux. Puck came out of the driver's side and Quinn emerged from the car.

"Hi," Quinn smiled widely at Santana.

"Hi, Quinny! How are you?" Santana gave a hug.

"Depends on your answer. How are you, Santana?" Quinn smiled at her long-time friend. Aside from Puck, Santana was one of the closest person that she could ever have.

"I'm fine. Actually, how about we get inside?" Santana looked at her friend and took Quinn's hand as they stepped on the porch.

"Hang on, Satan, you're carrying two girls at the same time," Puck said.

Santana eyed Quinn, surprised. "You're pregnant?"

In turn, she only received a quick, shy nod from Quinn. Santana chuckled and swatted Puck's arm, which was carrying a heavy trunk towards the house.

"Oh Puck, you've been busy, eh?"

"Shut it, Santana," Puck said, clearly annoyed at Santana's giddiness.

"Alright, let's get you inside Quinn. So we can have dinner," Santana smiled at Quinn. She actually felt happy for the couple, and happiness was a luxury she wasn't able to experience for a long time. For three months, to be exact.

Dinner with Puck and Quinn was casual, with none of them mentioning alcohol. Maybe because of the baby, or maybe because the both of her friends were just tired.

Santana watched her friends disappear to their guest room, and Santana had to go to her own room, too.

She quickly turned in for the night. She had a long day ahead of her. And a grocery shopping to make.

The grocery's parking lot was empty as Brittany's black Focus pulled up, save for a black Toyota truck. Brittany quickly turned the engine down and went straight to the groceries fruit section.

"Damn, where the hell do I find a kiwi fruit?" someone impatiently asked the sales assistant.

"Ma'am…we don't have kiwis here," the Sicilian lady explained to her as patiently as she could.

"Damn Quinn and her fruit list," the voice cursed.

"Santana?" the jar of strawberry jam fell from Brittany's hand, breaking over the white-tiled floor.

"Ma'am you have to pay for that," the sales lady said.

"Shut it, I'm going to pay it," Brittany quipped and stared at the chocolate-brown eyes that she hasn't seen for months.

"Brittany?" Santana awkwardly said. "Hi, how are you?"

"I'm good," Brittany smiled. "Are you, alright?" there was a hopeful voice inside her that wanted so desperately for Santana to say those words she wanted to hear.

Santana had noticed the slight hopeful voice Brittany had displayed and tried to play it out. It's not that she's flirting with a married woman.

_Of course, Sam was her husband now, but for old time's sakes. _Santana thought it out.

"Well, pretty fine, I'm alright," Santana smiled a hesitant smile.

_No. I was never alright._

"So what happened to Paris then?" Brittany smiled sadly.

"I got my heart broken, if that's what you're asking," Santana smiled sadly and took backward steps. "Uh…I have to go, get some green cabbage. I got a few friends staying at my house, so I need to uhh…cook."

Brittany was left alone by the shelf of jams and fruit foods. She stood there, thinking it over and over again. Santana's dead stare, the glance, it all told the whole story at once.

_Santana was hurting and she thought I was married._ Brittany's mind said out aloud, and she mentally kicked herself as she cursed for not taking the chance to know where Santana lived.

_Wait, did she mention that she had a house?_

Brittany ran out the store and climbed into her car. Santana's car was nowhere to be found already, and she had expected it to happen. Right now, she had important places to go. She revved the car engine and went to the cops.

The Italian-speaking cop waved his hands exasperatedly. "No English. Very little. Little one," he said out aloud.

"Find. Find person's house," Brittany insisted. "Lopez, find Lopez."

"Lopez?" the man scratched his head. Brittany had been dealing with the stress over finding Santana and it's afternoon already, and still she got nothing.

"No I…look. I find," Brittany gestured for the man to stand up and she sat on the swivel chair. She started typing Santana's name and out came a result.

"Sellesa Beach?" her eyed bulged. "It's just a few miles down the beach!" Out came Brittany flying from the office, in hopes that she might see Santana soon. Her mind and heart had been focused to one thing and that's the brunette that's been her nightmare for months.

She pulled to a stop in front of a nicely-painted house with white accentuated with brown. There were things scattering on the porch, most of them were beer bottles.

_Had Santana been drinking her life away?_

The door was ajar and she kept on walking. Clothes were scattered about and the house was a mess. Popcorn was everywhere and there was no one around. She decided to go upstairs.

"Quinn, stop doing the cleaning and go for a walk out there," Santana yelled as soon as her shoes were hitting the upstairs hallway.

The more Brittany came nearer, she felt as if she was having her walk down the aisle on her wedding day.

"Santana," she stood by the doorway, seeing the young Hispanic artist staring blankly at and unfinished portrait of a blonde girl on canvas. Instantly, Santana turned her head on her.

"Brittany, why are you here?"

"I am here…" she started, emotions were overflowing from her chest. It was as unbearable as leaving Santana. She could see the painful expression in Santa's eyes.

"I am here…" she said again and sighed. "To tell you that I am married."

"Yeah I can see that, obviously. It's all over the fucking news," Santana turned away.

"No, no…San, look at me," Brittany said and grasped the tan arms desperately, as if wanting to hold it for support. "Look at me."

"I am married to the girl in front of me. We were married in a very incomplete, fatal way," tears were rolling rapidly from Brittany's pale cheeks.

"I can't let you hurt me again. Not the second time around, Brittany…"

"But…I love you. Santana, look at me. I did not marry Sam. I love you," she cradled the smaller woman's face between her fingers. "I believe that we deserve another chance, because I believe we really love each other. If you really don't love me, look at me, straight in the eye and tell me as honestly as you can that you don't love me. And I will walk out of your life, forever."

There was a moment of silence as they both held each other's gazes. And then. Santana turned away.

"I- I can't…" she admitted bluntly. Hot liquid poured out from her eyes. Tears that she had been holding back fell.

"I love you, baby…" Brittany cradled Santana in her arms. "I wouldn't leave you…I won't leave you," she kissed the plump lips that are waiting for her.

Kisses that were heated, passionate and needy were exchanged between needy bodies; limbs were tangled, sweats mixing together with scents. The moon watched two bodies become one, and topple over the edge.

Santana stared at the blonde beauty beside her and smiled lovingly. "I love you," Santana whispered. Then she stood up and took her canvas, she unpacked her charcoal pencils and sat just opposite of Brittany's naked body, sleeping peacefully and dwelling in the realm of her gleeful dreams

She started sketching.


	16. Thank You!

I would like to thank you all for following my fanfic. I hope you guys stay the same and if it wasn't for you guys, I wouldn't have made this. Thank you so much, every one of you. I love you and you all keep safe.

Stay beautiful.


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